


False, Positive

by CaptainTarthister



Series: The Lannisters Are Coming [17]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday, Birthday Party, Cunnilingus, F/M, Family, Fluff, Kinky boots, Married Sex, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 54,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4756787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Jaime’s forty-fifth birthday, a small contingent of family and close friends gather at Casterly Rock. But before the birthday boy gets to blow the candles, mix-ups and hysteria ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Counting the Days

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing and know nothing. 

Eight weeks earlier

It probably wasn’t that normal for a guy to like coming home to his tired wife and squealing twins, Jaime Lannister supposed as he listened to the door of his apartment for any activity. But then, not every guy was married to one like Brienne, who, drained as she sometimes was from teaching and administrative responsibilities since being put on the tenure track, always welcomed him home with a kiss, sometimes pressed absently on the cheek, sometimes passionate. What mattered to Jaime was the kiss. Then there was the matter of his sons. A baby is never easy, two, an Olympic feat. Though yes, it drove him up the wall sometimes when they wouldn’t stop crying but they were done teething now. They were nineteen months, still precocious and maddening as ever but Jaime would never exchange any of this for a the comfort of a bachelor pad and a cold can of beer at the end of the day. He wasn’t much of a drinker, unlike his brother Tyrion and twin sister Cersei, and he had already been a bachelor. Nothing came close to the happiness of being a husband and a father.  
And when he opened the door, strode towards the living room and found his wife standing right under the archway in their small apartment, in a pin-up pose with her hands on her waist and one leg bent, wearing only her knee-high Manolo Blahnik boots, Jaime knew he was in paradise.  
Brienne Lannister spent more than half her life being reminded how unattractive she was until adulthood ushered in bits of blessedness. At six-foot-three, she was an inch taller than her husband, not to mention having a broader set of shoulders and a non-existent curve to her waistline. She was muscled and firm, never delicate. But then Jaime came into her life and she started cursing less her pale skin that easily turned red, the freckles that made her look more splotchy. Now she saw her skin as moonlight, her freckles as raspberry. Although yes, it made her blush that her husband saw her as a creamy raspberry tart, big woman that she was.  
As Brienne stood there, watching her husband’s face go through surprise, wonder, then smug, satisfied male before desire transformed his eyes into smoldering emeralds, she couldn’t remember the last time she felt oafish and undeserving to even breathe the same air as him. She was proud of her toned arms and the firm span of her thick waist. Her breasts, mere pink buds before children, had swelled to fit Jaime’s hands after giving birth. The thick, dark blond bush between her muscular thighs gleamed with her honey. For their wedding, she had waxed off all the hair. Jaime had been crazed over it but he told her later that while he wasn't put off, he wanted to fuck a woman's cunt, not a pre-pubescent girl's. 

For once her uncontrollable straw blond hair wasn’t its usual crazy self but some still stubbornly stuck up. Her big, round, sapphire eyes were hooded as they stared at Jaime’s tongue licking his suddenly dry lips.

“To what do I owe this surprise?” He asked, smiling at her. He slipped off his gray suit jacket from his wide shoulders and then, pretending nonchalance, pushed his hands in the pockets of his pants. It pulled the material tight across the long, hard outline of his erection.

Brienne, despite the confidence in her stance, was blushing from head to toe, although he couldn’t see them. “Do I need a reason to fuck my husband?”

“I thought you want me to fuck you,” Jaime told her, walking toward her like a predator assessing an ensnared prey.

“Who fucks who, who cares,” Brienne affected a casual shrug, “just as long as, um, ah, my, ah. . .” 

He stopped right in front her, a small smile quirking the corner of his firm lips. His hands went around her waist. “Say it, wife,” he whispered against her lips.

Brienne whimpered as he pressed a hard kiss on her lips. “Cunt,” she murmured.

“What about your cunt?” His hands lowered to her ass, pinching the firm, tight mounds.

“It wants your. . .cock,” she whispered as he trailed languid kisses down the side of her neck.

“How much does your cunt want my cock?”

“Jaime. . .”

In his pants, his cock leaped at the sound of his name from her lips. He clasped her by the nape with one hand, tilting her mouth towards him, while the other brushed her pubic hair and delved lower. Brienne moaned, collapsing against the wall as her cunt easily admitted one finger then two.  
“Your cunt’s weeping for my cock,” he whispered.  
“Yes. Oh, Jaime. My Jaime,” she gasped as his fingers curled inside. “Please, let me have you.”  
Maybe it was the way she begged him, throaty and so desperate, maybe it was her eyes, pools of sapphire that he had once described as having ended him. He pushed her against the wall, moved his hips between her legs and took her lips between his. Her moan was song and fire to his blood. Trembling fingers attacked his belt and pants, pulled down his boxers just low enough to give relief for his cock.  
Jaime breathed her name, then scooped her legs up in his hands. Brienne wrapped her legs around him, her cunt open and wet. His cock plunged in, easily, because it always belonged there.  
She clung to him with all her might, her nails and the heels of the boots digging in his skin as he thrust deeper and harder in her, pressing her to the wall so tightly that not even the thinnest bit of paper would be able to slip between their bodies. Muscles strained, muscles pulled, pushed. Sweat poured. Loud cries muffled my possessive kisses. Hips ground against each other, a clash of flesh and muscle. Whose body was the battleground neither knew. They only wanted to take in as much of each other as possible and more. They only wanted to love.  
Reluctantly, Jaime pulled out of Brienne, his cock quickly protesting the loss of her cunt but quickly placated at the sight of his semen and her own come pearling the curls of her cunt. He wa going to take her to the bedroom where he could fuck her properly and keep her legs tight around him all night when Brienne, a wicked spark in her eyes, suddenly slipped to her knees before him.

“Your cock, ser,” she whispered, looking up at him. “I crave its taste.”

Seven weeks earlier

With the twins finally asleep, Jaime all but shoved Brienne back to bed. He yanked off her panties, urged on her on her arms and knees, whispered to her harshly to put her ass higher up for him.  
He entered without preamble. She gasped, she wasn't ready, not yet, but fuck, did her husband feel _so good._ Knowing her discomfort and not too greedy about his pleasure, he started strumming her clit and was rewarded when she began to get wet. He had been close to bursting as he watched her sing their babies to sleep and now that he was surrounded by her warm tightness he prayed to the Seven to let him last. But she moaned. He rose even more to the challenge. She was flooding his hand now.  
When Jaime came, he buried his lips in her shoulder, biting the soft, warm flesh. Brienne screamed into her pillow. 

Six weeks earlier

Jaime closed his eyes, the expression on his face both of pain and ecstasy as he sat on the couch, his hips pushing up to meet Brienne’s downward thrusts. He reached up to cup her face, told her to kiss him because he came hard and fast when they kissed and his cock was in her. 

Five weeks earlier

“Gods damn it,” Brienne groaned from the bedroom. “Hurry up.”  
Jaime, smiling despite the tight expression on his face, quickly washed his cock. He returned to the bedroom with it once again pointing up his stomach.  
Brienne, slumped on her chest in their bed, his semen gleaming from the globes of her ass, turned when she heard him shuffle in. She slowly shifted on her back. Keeping her astonishingly blue eyes on him, she pinched her nipples before sliding both hands down her cunt. Her legs opened, giving him a mouth-watering view of pink, moist flesh.  
“Shall I, wife?” He asked, rubbing his cock in his fist.  
“Please.” 

Four weeks earlier

“Someone will catch us,” Brienne whispered, outraged, shocked and deep in lust as she clung to the top edge of the door of the restaurant’s bathroom door. Jaime held her legs wide open, holding her knees in a bruising grip as he moved between them.

“I don’t care,” Jaime hissed. “I want your cunt. I want you.”

Three weeks earlier

“Please, Jaime,” Brienne moaned to him, flat on her back, her blouse ripped open, her skirt tangled at her waist. She lay on her desk in her office. “I want your cock.” 

Two weeks earlier

Drew, done nursing, was now fast asleep. Brienne bent to kiss him on the forehead, then turned to do the same to Ty. She straightened up and saw Jaime watching her from the doorway, arms crossed on his chest. His eyes stared unabashedly, possessively at her breasts, her swollen, cracked nipples straining against the threadbare fabric of her t-shirt. "It's my turn," he told her. "Take off your shirt." 

Four days ago

“Winter is coming,” Tyrion remarked as he stepped down the grand staircase of Casterly Rock. He nodded at Brienne’s red cheeks as Jaime helped remove her coat. “But it’s still quite nice outside, wouldn’t you say?”  
Brienne replied, but what she did say she couldn’t remember, only that it made enough sense to carry on a conversation with Tyrion. She had never done that before, talk as if it was no big deal that her panties were somewhere crumpled on the road, that she could feel their come dripping down her thighs, or the fact that Jaime, standing with his arm around her waist, kept licking his fingers. When Tyrion asked him about it, he said, shrugging, “Had the sweetest raspberry tart, brother, that’s all.” 

Three days ago

“Fuck me, Brienne,” Jaime begged her as she straddled him.

Two days ago

“Jaime, please,” Brienne moaned as Jaime pulled her leg over his hip and began to enter her, too slowly, from behind. 

Yesterday

The surprise on Brienne’s face as he fucked her with his cock and circled a finger in her ass at the same time was an image Jaime will never forget. "I love you," she gasped, tightening. 

Today

Brienne didn’t need to do math. The evidence was right there, on the calendar slashed red.  
“Fucked in the ass,” she whispered.


	2. On the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne wonders if there's a new life growing inside her and if she can handle another child so soon.  
> Tyrion's coming! And Margaery! And Renly! Loras! Sansa! Bronn! Lollys! Joffrey!  
> And Jon Snow! Tywin. The first of many.

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing and know nothing.

Jaime’s forty-fifth birthday was this weekend, to be held at Casterly Rock at Tywin’s insistence. If it were up to him, his celebration would consist of his favorite chocolate birthday cake, in the kitchen of his apartment, Brienne at his side, and a baby on each their hip. He wanted nothing to do with the extravaganza Tywin had intended, which was a black tie dinner, an orchestra, and a guest list whose names Jaime didn’t care about. 

Cersei, his twin sister, also chafed at the idea of a big celebration. Made a senior resident last year, she spent her days in a white coat and a suit, hardly the shapeless scrubs that had been her uniform for a long time. Nevertheless, she didn’t like the idea of a birthday celebration where she’d be forced in a long dress. “Tell me how am I to go running after Joffrey in stilettos? I’d break my neck,” she complained to Jaime when she called him to do something about it. “I want my husband and son with me on that day, nothing more. Definitely none of Father’s fucking business associates unable to say anything more than, `Oh, Cersei, so you’re a surgeon,’ `How nice must that be for you’ and `How can you still be a doctor with a husband and a child.’ If only the law allows me I’d dig out their entrails and strangle them with it." 

In the end, it was Tyrion who intervened. He didn’t like these events too although he was a natural at it, easily holding an audience and smoothly moving from one circle to the next. By his side was a slinky model whom he will never see again. Since things became serious with Margaery Tyrell, a wealthy family known for their philanthropy and being academic intellectuals, he had become quite possessive of her company. Margaery too, told him, that she just didn’t have the energy to socialize even if it was a world well-known to her. “Why can’t we just go to Casterly Rock and hang out with your family? Why do we have to do it in dresses?” 

Tyrion negotiated with Tyrion: the Lannister children and their families and friends would, instead, spend a long birthday weekend at Casterly Rock, and on Saturday afternoon will be a tasteful barbecue with a guest list trimmed to more than half. Tywin wasn’t too pleased but Tyrion had to remind him that they would all be driving back to Westeros early Sunday morning because they had to rest and do the laundry and then go to work the following day. 

“We’re Lannisters who work, Father,” Tyrion reminded him. 

Tywin’s green eyes were cold. “If you work with me you could take an extra day.” 

“Clearly. But none of us are interested.”

This early Thursday morning, Sansa arrived at the Lannisters' apartment with her own bag of clothes for the next few days. They had requested her to work until Sunday. 

She helped Brienne feed Jeremy Tyrion and Andrew Galladon while Jaime disassembled their prams to better transport them and packed up some bottles. Brienne was still breastfeeding but a few weeksago she started weaning them. 

As Brienne smiled at Jeremy Tyrion’s giggles while beating his fists on the tray of his high chair, she snuck a glance at her husband. Jaime no longer wore his golden bond hair long and he was clean-shaven. He would be forty-five years old in a few days yet he looked ten years younger. She watched him easily remove the screws and begin to fold the prams, the muscles of his forearms straining but she knew he wasn’t struggling. He wore a dark blue sweater, the sleeves bunched at his elbows as he worked. Sensing he was being watched, he looked up and winked at Brienne, his green eyes warm yet also bright with sensual promise. 

She blushed and dropped her eyes, scooping food into Andrew Galladon’s mouth this time while Jeremy Tyrion beat his little fists in protest. Jaime had awakened her at dawn, his whispers passionate, his hands on her body urgent. “It will be way into the night before I have you again,” he said, pushing her t-shirt up to her chin and licking her nipples. His other hand shoved her pajamas down her feet. “Give me something to tide me over, wife. That’s it. Ah. _So responsive._ How are you still _so tight_?” 

They made love hurriedly, desperately, as if they were going to be parted for years rather than mere hours and with just a few feet between them. Jaime shuddered against Brienne when she pulled him down for a deep, open-mouthed kiss as she exploded around him. 

Her breasts swelled and her nipples tightened under her V-necked, sea-green sweater. She put away the little plastic bowls and spoons while Sansa played with the twins. 

Brienne loaded the dishwasher. Though her body was warm, her thoughts were on the matter of her period. She was one week late, according to the calendar. As she stood up, she wondered if she missed a mini-pill or two. Her periods were regular and she’d never been late. 

“Brienne,” Sansa called to her. She turned and saw the lovely redhead making funny faces at the twins as she spoke. “Is it okay if I get them scarves? It’s really chilly out.” 

“Go ahead. Get them thick ones, please, thank you,” Brienne said. 

Sansa kissed Drew on the forehead and jumped to her feet. She disappeared behind the wall leading to their room.

As soon as Sansa was out, Jaime was at Brienne’s side, his large hands on her waist. Brienne’s face reddened some more as he pulled her with him behind the counter and pressed her to the erection in his jeans. 

“You should be careful when you look at me that way, wife,” he whispered, brushing his knuckle against her nipple. Brienne wore a t-shirt underneath but it did not disguise the beading bud of her nipple against the layers of clothes.

Jaime smiled at her and continued rubbing her nipple. “Do you want me again?” 

She kissed him, sucking his lower lip, moaning when his hands lowered to her ass and gripped her. “I always want you.” 

“Good. Tell me again tonight.” He whispered against her lips. 

They heard Sansa coming back. When the nanny returned, Jaime was back at his task and Brienne was wiping the counter. Sansa walked over the twins and draped matching red scarves around them.

Before they left for the forty-minute drive, Brienne went to the bathroom. There, she stared at herself in the mirror. 

Was it possible she was pregnant again? Sure, her breasts were tender but that was because she was still breastfeeding, though doing it less often. She touched her stomach but it wouldn’t tell her anything. If she was, it was still too small, only heartbeat. When she found out she was first pregnant with her sons, she felt like a zinging ball of energy, worried if her skin would burst from her excitement and happiness. 

She remembered cradling her still-flat stomach, wishing she were in Jaime’s arms rather than alone in bed and far away. They weren’t planning a family yet, they were still talking about it but deep down, she knew this baby’s arrival was right. There was nothing anything close to the giddiness of the first time. Brienne, whose first book was about to come out along with having published three important articles on Westerosi and English literature, was one year into her tenure track. There was so much to do she was often overwhelmed. Jaime and their sons grounded her but if there was another child in the mix. . .she crossed her arms, hugging herself. She couldn’t imagine still fulfilling her professional dreams being pregnant again so soon and going through the rigors of raising another baby when there were still two whose steps were still wobbly. 

She hung her head. She just couldn’t.

And it made her an awful person.

  


  


Brienne and Sansa loaded the car seats containing the twins in the backseat while Jaime put their bags in the trunk. Done, Sansa sat with the twins, cooing at them as she did.

As Brienne opened the passenger door, a familiar, low-slung sports vehicle pulled behind them. A fond smile touched her face as doors opened. 

Out of his tweeds, Tyrion Lannister liked to relax in old t-shirts and jeans, and he was wearing them this time with an old denim jacket that had seen better days. His black and green eyes flashed as he waved at Brienne. Joining him on the curb was his girlfriend, Margaery Tyrell. 

“Brienne!” Margaery said, opening her arms. Brienne went to her and the two women hugged. Then Brienne next bent towards Tyrion, a most awkward thing given the great discrepancy in their heights but their embrace was warm and friendly. 

Jaime shut the trunk and stood behind Brienne. Margaery kissed him on the cheek.

“You’re not taking the twins with you?” Margaery asked. With her long, curling brown hair and doe-shaped brown eyes, she was certainly pretty. Her outfit was casual, a denim jacket similar to Tyrion’s paired with a long, gray t-shirt, skinny jeans and ankle-high boots.

“Packed in the car with the nanny,” Jaime said, pointing with his thumb behind him while his other arm went around Brienne’s waist.

“Any bets on how this weekend will go?” Tyrion asked drily. “I’m running a pool.”

“I have twenty dragons that it won’t be so bad,” Margaery said. Just then, Sansa stuck her head out of the backseat and Margaery waved at her. “Hello, dear.

” It had been a little awkward when Jaime and Brienne didn’t hire Margaery’s brother Loras at first. She was only placated when Jaime told her the twins appeared more comfortable with Sansa. Since then, Margaery had warmed to the younger girl. 

“I would give anything, anything, just to stay in our tiny apartment,” Brienne told Jaime, smiling at him.

“Say the word. We can always say the twins did something,” Jaime said. From behind her, he slipped a hand under her sweater and caressed the soft skin of her back. She leaned closer to him. 

“Oh, no, no, no,” Tyrion protested, “you are not going to ditch your party and leave me alone to deal with Cersei.” 

“She wasn’t too keen either, if I recall,” Jaime said. 

“Speaking of Cersei, where is she? You’d think the way she kept emailing us to be not late that she’d be here first,” Margaery said, looking at her watch. 

“Bronn too,” Brienne said, remembering. “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” she told Jaime, “Jon will just be following us. His flight’s delayed. He texted me this morning.” 

They continued to stand on the sidewalk, talking. While Margaery and Tyrion had unconsciously reached for each other’s hand, with Tyrion every now and then kissing the back of her hand, Brienne had somehow snuck behind Jaime so she now had her arms around him. He leaned against her, feeling himself relax against her chest. 

Margaery looked at Tyrion with pure adoration while Jaime smiled inwardly when he felt Brienn’s breasts pressing at his back.

“Well, here comes our dear sister,” Tyrion announced, nodding at the silver Mercedes Benz GLC rounding the corner and heading toward them. It parked behind Margaery’s sports car. They were startled when Renly Baratheon slipped out of the driver’s side, looking stylish with his trimmed dark hair and dressed in head-to-toe black, from his jacket to the tips of his trainers. A familiar looking mop of brown curls atop a man exited the passenger side. He was dressed in a gray sweater, jeans and black Converse sneakers. He smiled at them before opening the backseat to pull out a jolly-faced little boy with dark brown hair and bright green eyes.

Margaery was the first to recover. “Brother, what are you doing here?” 

Loras Tyrell, with little Joffrey Baratheon clinging to his hand, kissed her on the cheek. “Wait for Renly to tell you. Jaime, Brienne, hello. Good to see you again, Tyrion.”

“Renly, come here and give me a hug!” Brienne exclaimed, all but pushing Jaime aside. He glared at her then at Renly as the two old friends hugged tightly. His face cleared when Renly let go so he could shake Jaime’s hand.

“My clumsy brother sprained his ankle, doing who knows what in the bedroom,” Renly explained. “I used the chopper this morning and offered to take them up in it to Casterly Rock but the little squirt here—“ Joffrey laughed at Renly’s nickname from him—“started to cry. Cersei couldn’t deal with a cranky husband and a screaming child this weekend so she asked me to pick up the nanny and take him with us to Casterly Rock.” 

“I didn’t know you work for my sister,” Jaime told Loras said.

“Started two months ago,” Loras replied. 

“Well, at least Sansa won’t be stuck with just the twins,” Brienne said as Jaime pulled her back to his side. “ He nuzzled her neck. She smiled at Renly. “Sansa Stark is our nanny. She’s lovely, she’s the best, I swear to you, and I admit I was a little worried that she’ll have nothing but kids for company for four days. Maybe you two can help each other out.” 

“No problem. I’m more than happy to help,” Loras said. “Joffrey’s so easy to take care of I worry I’m being overpaid.” 

“If a Lannister overpays you, just take the money,” Tyrion told him. 

“Who else are we waiting for?” Renly asked. 

Jaime nodded at the approaching, tan, luxury SUV. “That one.” 

Bronn, his black hair still worn long to his shoulders, stuck his head out of the driver’s side. “I’ll get to know you later,” he called to them. “Let’s go! Or Tywin Lannister will fuck us!”

They cheered and rushed to their cars.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Addam Marbrand won't be joining them. His wife is having a delicate pregnancy and can't move around much. He doesn't want to leave her.


	3. Albatross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of Jaime angst. Margaery might have a secret.

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing and know nothing. 

  


Casterly Rock was nearly an hour away from the city of Westeros. Since their convoy started driving early, they were able to avoid much of the traffic. As far as Jaime was concerned, they could take the entire day. It wasn’t the idea of turning older that made him crankier than usual, it was that a special day had to be at Casterly Rock. He was a grouch, had been for a few days, except when he was fucking his wife or sleeping next to her, or putting his sons to sleep or giving them a bath. He had to be careful; because they had been together for a long time, Brienne was quick to pick up on his moods and feelings. He knew she wasn’t enthusiastic with the idea either but she understood, always would, the importance of having as many family as around you on such a day.So as wonderful as a root canal their time at Casterly Rock would be, Jaime just about manage to pull himself together and put on a pleasant face. 

One of the things that Jaime and Brienne argued about was his family and hers. Brienne grew up surrounded by uncles, big, burly men who often forgot they had a little girl in their charge. She told Jaime, red-faced, how it was her Uncle Duncan who drew the shortest end of the stick and took her to the pharmacy to get the necessary supplies when she started her period at thirteen years old. The next few years were a series of awkward conversations as it slowly dawned on her uncles she was becoming a woman. They taught her how boys thought of one thing and only wanted one thing, and if he tried to wheedle her in any way in giving it up, she must punch him in the nose, at the very least. They had to teach her about a woman’s cycle, since school was a bit too scientific and Brienne couldn’t make heads or tails about eggs and tubes. When she was teased for being already six feet tall at fifteen, it was her uncles who made sure she had a fluffy pillow to hug and a glass of ice-cold water on her bedside as she cried herself to sleep. There was a lot of blunder, but that was expected when parenting a teenager, yet not once did Brienne feel shortchanged. She missed her father of course, and often wondered why he always chose the country over her, but she also knew that being overseas for the country meant he was protecting her, foremost. 

The Tarths were not well-off, even though it was their family that ran and established the isle. They were a minor house in the histories of Westeros, with just about enough wealth. Over the centuries, their cache of gold dwindled but they were still very comfortable and had managed to keep Evenfall Hall. Brienne never lacked anything and if she wanted something, her uncles, and later her father when he retired from service, made sure she got it. Somehow, she never grew up spoiled and entitled. If anything, she still struggled with the idea of deserving things. Perhaps because though there was much love for her at home, there was little to none for her outside. 

She left Tarth for college at the University of Braavos before moving to Westeros for graduate school. She could count in one hand the number of time she visited since and she always regretted how, now more than ever, it was now harder to visit her uncles and her father. She missed their awkward, blundering, yet always genuine brand of love. 

Jaime’s childhood at Casterly Rock was tolerated at best. Tywin was never to be disturbed in his study when he was home, thus the army of nannies and staff that kept the Lannister children entertained and oversaw the daily smooth operation of their lives. Tywin would only see his children if he had to, or if they did something worthy of the Lannister name. Jaime found it hard to believe that before the car accident that took his mother Joanna, Tywin was quite amiable and doted on his children. In a box in an attic back at the manor are old, dusty albums that proved this true. There were photos of Tywin with Tyrion on his lap, both of them smiling and pointing at the elaborate train set in what Jaime recognized was the study. There were also plenty of Tywin kissing Cersei’s chubby cheek, or him on horseback and little Jaime harnessed to his chest. He never knew this father.

Tywin expected nothing but excellence in his children. He didn’t see the sense of supporting their endeavours if they wouldn’t be the best. Tyrion, taken by the world of science early on, found a field of study he loved who also loved him back, although Tywin had been far from pleased when his chemistry set blew up and burned off his son’s eyebrows. Tyrion would go on to skip a few years of school, starting college very young. Jaime sensed that his brother’s drive to succeed came from his being born a dwarf. He never saw it as a liability and neither did Tywin but the older Lannister did drum it too hard in his son’s head that he had to be the best whatever he put his mind into else people will just see him deformed and looked at with pity. “Lions are to be feared,” he liked to say.

Cersei too, seemed to excel without much effort. Before thinking of becoming a doctor, she saw herself as an equestrienne and was a national champion. But when her horse suddenly threw her off its saddle during a competition, sidelining her with a broken neck and back, she was too traumatized to get back on. Tywin’s solution was to yell at her, force her to practice despite her screaming protests and pleas. Terrified, Cersei threw up all over the ground. She never rode a horse again.

It depressed her for a while and Jaime and Tyrion had to practically hold her hand in getting her to try new things. Jaime saw that it cost her a lot, as Cersei was proud and was not one to shed a single tear no matter the pain. She started to mine her beauty, and s easily became the most beautiful girl wherever she was. She also became head cheerleader in high school, aced her subjects, wrote for the sports section of the school paper and for college, snagged a spot for herself in the exclusive, pre-med program at Westeros University. Suddenly, Tywin was lavishing her with attention again. It would take somebody like Robert Baratheon for Cersei to be forgiving of herself if she failed and to see and accept herself for who she is rather than contorting herself to Tywin’s rigid expectations. 

As easy as success was for his brother and twin sister, it was twice as hard for Jaime. Dyslexic, he was never the best student and wasn’t interested in putting in the effort to improve. But sports, he liked, and they liked him back. He ran track and played soccer in middle school, concentrated mainly on soccer in high school, where he became team captain. But it wasn’t enough for Tywin. It was during this time that Jaime discovered he had a talent for conceptualizing creative displays for when people put up booths during the school fair. A stage production of Hamlet gave him his first opportunity to play with set design and it was a proud moment for him when he saw how cool it looked from the audience. Tywin couldn’t understand what he did and thought it a waste of time. He put his foot down when Jaime expressed an interest in applying in Mereen School of Arts. Thus, he went to King’s Landing University-Westeros and was miserable in Business Administration except for when he was making sets for the school’s drama department.

It wasn’t too great a distance between Casterly Rock and Westeros but for Jaime, it might as well be the world. It was in college where, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t reminded at every corner that he shouldn’t be a lagging Lannister but a lion. 

The weekly dinners Tywin imposed on them was bearable but Jaime dreaded when his sons were older and thus bound to it. What if Ty had dyslexia, what if Drew was happily average? He couldn’t allow his sons to be told by Tywin that they were undeserving of the Lannister name just because they didn’t have the ambition to conquer the world. Neither did he want them told that they were every inch a Lannister for wanting to. All Jaime wanted was for his sons to be happy being themselves and that will only happen if they were kept as far away from Casterly Rock as possible. 

The name Lannister was an albatross on his soul and he feared it will also be his sons.’ 

With Jaime and Brienne leading their convoy, Margaery followed close behind. Tyrion, with his legs folded under him, was opening a package of fresh strawberries. She glanced at him, liking how the morning light fell on his messy, ruffled golden hair, so different from the slicked-back hairstyle he favored when at work. 

She liked watching him at work, he was so authoritative and so smart as he faced the never-ending administrative duties of a univ ersity president but she liked seeing him best out of his tweeds, out of the office. Tyrion relaxed was a sight that made her catch her breath.

They have been together for more than a year. Margaery had been in serious relationships before but this one felt different right from the start. For one, she hadn’t been attracted to Tyrion, put off by his dwarfism the first time she met him at the meeting of the board of trustees. She had been impressed with his sharp, astute mind, and she couldn’t wait for the end of the meeting so she could introduce herself. It was important, from that very first day, that he knew of her. 

With many Tyrells being alumni of King’s Landing University-Westeros and having made sizable contributions to make its expansion and growth possible, they were invited to become members of the board of trustees five years ago. Olenna Tyrell, now a professor emeritus, had turned over this task to Margaery. 

Margaery knew how people regarded her. Because she didn’t really have a job and lived on the investments and stocks her family owned, she was often dismissed as another socialite who just sat in charity boards and never did any actual work but look pretty and unattainable. Very few knew that she ran a chain of salons that employed women who had been abused. It would change the perception of her but Margaery liked that this wasn’t well-known. It made it possible for her to move the under the radar. When people thought you a ditz, they didn’t expect much, after all, certainly not the network she employed to ensure that there were plenty of opportunities for empowerment for the women of Westeros

Tyrion Lannister never dismissed her as another lazy, spoiled socialite, nor did he look at her with the calculating desire she often got from men because of her beauty. He looked her right in the eye as she introduced herself and shook her hand. And he actually spoke _with_ her rather than making another comment about the Tyrell influence in Westeros “growing strong. ” 

Margaery knew money was hard for many people and her family had an endless pit. The solution to this was, quite literally, to throw money at the problem, using it to give people opportunities to better themselves. If that was viewed as an agenda, an eventual takeover of Westeros, those fuckers could screw themselves, Margaery had thought as she answered Tyrion's question.

They had coffee after the meeting and ran into each other while shopping for groceries the following week. Tyrion invited her to dinner and then she invited him the second time. She would later find out that he never went out with the same woman twice. 

Tyrion passed her some strawberries, then mimed that he wanted to feed her instead. Laughing, Margaery opened her mouth and he threw one at her, missing.

“Hey, no littering in my car!” She protested. 

“Well, try catching the damned strawberry, don’t just have your mouth hanging open,” Tyrion told her

. Margaery opened her mouth again, ready. Tyrion surprised her by leaning towards her and gently putting a strawberry past her lips. 

“Thank you, baby,” she told him, her brown eyes soft. “

You’re most welcome,” Tyrion whispered, kissing the tip of her nose before scooting back to his seat.

Margaery smiled at him, heart full, then returned her attention to the road. Gods, she was in love with Tyrion Lannister and he with her. Now if only she could confirm that the condition her body was in was actually _it_ , life would be so perfect. Even if it meant four days at Casterly Rock, she thought as she followed Jaime and Brienne toward Lannister Drive. 

“I still can’t believe you have a private street,” she told Tyrion.

“There was a bit of grumbling by the home association but of course, Tywin Lannister got what he wanted,” Tyrion said, nodding as the tall, iron gates of Casterly Rock rose ahead of them. “That’s pretty much my childhood, sweet, in case you still don’t know. Now let’s get this party over with. Tits and wine await.” He grinned at her, teasing and seductive. “Step on it, Miss Tyrell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gods, is it you, Margaery? Or is it you too, Margaery?


	4. In the Lion's Lair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Casterly Rock.  
> Who's Tywin's favorite Lannister?

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing and know nothing. 

Casterly Rock was unlike anything Sansa had seen.  
When she started working for Jaime and Brienne Lannisters, she knew they were rich. There was hardly any business in Westeros that did not have the Lannister name in it. The family was known for its immense wealth and tentacles in various industries, from communications to merchandising to scientific research to public works and highways. Just thinking about the power of the Lannister name and its empire made Sansa gulp and sweat in her underarms. 

But Casterly Rock was something else. To get to the manor, you had to go take this long, private street named after the lions of Westeros. As you approached the place, it got bigger and grander. Tall iron gates that automatically sprang open. Security cameras. Sensors that scanned every inch of the car before it went through the gates. The gates were high, Sansa had to open the window to put her head up and look up, and the gray, concrete walls surrounding it endless. It felt like a military fortress. She was expecting an armed guard at the gates. She said this nervously to the couple, whipping her head back and forth as she tried to look for one.

“They’re around. You won’t see them. If you see them they’re not doing their job right,” Jaime told her.

The road toward the mansion past the gates was lined with thick-trunked trees that jostled at each other yet somehow managed to stay in a straight line. The lawns were the color of emeralds, manicured and even. Brienne started pointing out structures Sansa saw at the distance. To the west was the old stables before they were converted into a tennis court. On the eastside were the pools. One, an outdoor, Olympic-sized pool where Tywin kept fit and where Jaime and Brienne were looking forward to using during their stay, and close to it, the pool house which Brienne mentioned was designed with a luxurious, Dornish bath in mind. Sansa knew that the Dornish were the ultimate in luxury and decadence so if the Lannisters took that as a starting point for a design, it was going to be a lot more luxurious and decadent than ever before. 

Brienne also mentioned, as Jaime continued driving, that at the back of the mansion looked out to the ocean. This was where this weekend’s barbecue was going would be held. 

Sansa knew that Brienne was slowly easing her to the grandeur all around. As a Stark with northern roots, practicality reigned over luxury and decadence. Their old house in Winterfell looked more like a stronghold than an architectural showcase with its simple, gray façade, and had a garden that grew fruits, vegetables and herbs rather than exotic flowers and plants. It was a large space yet comfortable, a world away from Casterly Rock. 

The mansion rose tall, imposing and elegant as they neared it. Its architecture was simple, done in clean, elegant lines with lots of bay windows to allow generous amounts of sunlight to swoop in. Jaime circled a fountain in front of it before stopping in front of a young butler with dark hair and dark brown eyes, a round, pleasant face and an almost child-like, friendly smile. He was dressed in a dark, blood-red jacket, high-collared white shirt, a black tie and dark gray trousers. His shoes looked expensive and Sansa was glad she’d skipped trainers for more formal, ankle-high boots.

“Podrick,” Jaime greeted as they slipped out of the car. 

“Ser Jaime,” Podrick said, nodding. “Miss Brienne.”

“Pod, I told you, call me Brienne,” Brienne admonished him, holding her arms out. Shyly, Podrick went to her and the two of them hugged. 

“It’s good to see you, Miss Brienne,” he said. His brown eyes warmed when he saw Sansa exiting the backseat and getting the twins. “Ah. These must be my young masters.”

“Podrick Payne, meet Sansa Stark,” Brienne said, going around the younger people so she could get Drew. Jaime went to Sansa and held his arms out for Ty. “She’s going to help us with these little monsters,” she continued, kissing Drew on the forehead. “She’s going to need a lovely room to rest in afterward.”

“Of course, Miss Brienne.” Podrick said and turned to Sansa. “You’ll be in the east wing, with Miss Cersei’s, uh, staff, Sir Loras.”

“Sansa,” Sansa told him. “Please call me Sansa.”

“As you wish,” Podrick said agreeably.

“Pod, where’s my father?” Jaime asked, grinning as Ty rubbed his face against his chest. 

“They’re expecting you and Miss Brienne out in the patio. They’re just about to have breakfast.”

As Podrick spoke, Margaery’s car pulled up, followed by Renly’s and Bronn’s. More greetings and introductions were made. Tyrion shook Podrick’s hand, Margaery kissed him on the cheek, making the young butler blush, while Renly clapped him on the back as he introduced Loras. Joffrey, recognizing Podrick, leaped into his arms, chanting, “Pod, Pod, Pod!” It wasn’t Bronn’s first time at Casterly Rock but it was Lollys’ and their daughter Lyra. Lollys looked confused and overwhelmed at how they were talking over each other loudly. Lyra buried her face behind her mother’s skirt. Taking pity on the pair, Brienne introduced them to Podrick and offered to show them the grounds if they were interested.

“Oh, I absolutely love gardens,” Lollys said, smiling at Brienne. “I would love to.”

“But Mommy—“ Lyra began to say and her mother shushed her. Bronn picked up the six-year-old and she laughed. He nuzzled her long, blond hair, smiling at her then at Brienne. 

“Brienne,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “Your boy’s growing right before my eyes.” 

“He sure is,” Brienne said, her eyes soft and gentle as she looked at Drew. She laughed as Drew suddenly threw his chubby arms around her with a squeal.

“Daddy, I’m hungry,” Lyra told Bronn.

“We can go eat first,” Brienne told her. She looked at Lollys. “Will it be okay if we see the gardens later, Lollys?”

“Oh, sure, Brienne,” Lollys said, nodding eagerly. “That would be better, I think.”

“Hey, what are we doing standing here yakking?” Tyrion demanded playfully. “If I’m not mistaken, King Tywin insists upon seeing us immediately, am I right, Pod?”

“Yes, Ser Tyrion,” Podrick said. “He’s been expecting you. I’ll take care of your bags, if that’s alright with you.”

“Most okay,” Tyrion said, straightening the collar of his jacket. “Well, folks?”

“I vote we get back in our cars and drive off to the nearest pub,” Jaime declared. Ty raised his fat little fist in approval. “That’s my boy.”

“He’s a little party animal, this one,” Margaery said, tapping him lightly on the nose. 

“I’d rather play tennis than be around Tywin,” Renly said with a mock shudder. “Who’s with me?”

Jaime, Brienne and Bronn raised their hands. Margaery, putting an around Tyrion’s shoulders, raised an elegantly curved eyebrow at them. “You know, if we’re going to stay here, we might as well get it over and done with.”

“See? What did I tell you? This woman’s smart,” Tyrion said, but the pride in his voice indicated he really meant what he said.  
Brienne, who quite agreed, was about to speak up when Jaime suddenly pressed his lips close to her ear and put a hand around her arm, gently turning her away from the crowd. When Brienne turned back to them, her face and neck were flushed red while Jaime had a smug look on his face. Tyrion rolled his eyes while Margaery smiled. 

“Loras and I can help Pod with the bags,” Sansa offered.

“There is really no need, miss,” Podrick said. “There’s staff to take care of them, and they’ll take mighty good care of them if you have valuables we have to be careful about.”

“We know, Pod,” Loras said, “but it might be good for us nannies to check the rooms of our kids. Joffrey here isn’t too fond of rooms on the east side.” At the mention of his boy’s the little boy went to Loras and put his arms around his legs.

“Alright, if you feel you must. Go ahead and let them, Pod. But you’ll be joining us for breakfast, don’t forget,” Brienne told Sansa and Loras. As Sansa walked past her, Brienne told her, “If you could manage to get a room for the twins that adjoins ours, it would be most convenient. I’d hate for them to be so far away. And remember that Jaime and I will be taking care of them at night.”

“Would you like me to make sure my room’s close to yours too?” 

An innocent question but Brienne blushed again. “That won’t be necessary.”

As Podrick disappeared with Loras and Sansa, Tryion said to the group, “Okay. Off to our royal appointment now, shall we?”

“Why do I have a feeling we’re off to the gallows?” Jaime retorted as he fell into a step beside his brother. 

Tywin, Cersei and Robert were out in the patio, talking quietly when they arrived. Tyrion announced their presence rudely and loudly, and drew a growl from Robert as he tapped his injured ankle. Robert and Bronn shook hands, Robert smiling when Lyra stared at his bandaged ankle and asked if it hurt. “Like seven hells, darling,” he replied. “What’s your name?” 

“Lyra.”

“Beautiful name. And this, lovely woman is she your mother? Lollys, am I right?”

While not ugly, Lollys had a face that was almost too pleasant it was forgettable. Her hair was long and blond, straight and often worn down her shoulders. Her face was round, with a jawline that seemed to melt right into her neck. Her eyes were round, with the outer edges tilting down. Her eyes were blue, but again, it was an ordinary, pleasant shade that it was often forgotten. There was a child-like quality about her that gave sincerity to her actions and words. 

“Yes,” Lollys said, smiling shyly. “It’s nice to meet you at last, Robert.”

Robert Baratheon, even when sitting on a lounge chair with the leg of his injured ankle stretched out before him, looked tall and powerful. His shoulders were big, his chest wide. His body ran to thick though there was not an inch on fat on him. It was a running joke in the law firm Arryn, Baratheon & Partners that he looked like a prized fighter even in five thousand dragon suits. His hair was thick and black, matched with sharp dark eyes. His nose was long and broad at the tip, his jaw wide and square. His feature were not what one expected to result into a handsome, striking face but they did. 

Cersei, who was on the chair beside him, stood up and welcomed Lollys with a kiss on the cheek. She hugged Brienne and made funny faces at Drew before she turned to Margaery and hugged her. She also kissed Ty, pinching him on the cheek before she hugged Jaime. She laughed when Renly suddenly hefted Joffrey up his arms and towards his mother. 

“Mommy,” Joffrey said as Cersei took him, hugging him tight before letting him slide down her body. He hugged her before he ran to Robert, who quickly made space for him on his seat. 

Cersei Baratheon was easily the most beautiful woman one would ever lay eyes on. Her beauty had an ethereal quality, with soft, delicate skin that turned golden in the sun, long-lashed green eyes, high cheekbones, and a slim, sensual figure. Now that she was older, her features had become more striking. She was still stunning but one could see in a few years she was going to be described as elegant and striking. Lollys was a little in awe of her. 

“Sister,” Tyrion said as she bent to hug him. “Happy birthday.”

“Oh, fuck you, Tyrion,” Cersei complained, shoving him playfully. He chuckled and shoved her back. “Where is our esteemed father?”

“I am right here.”

Everyone turned.

Though dressed in a dark, blood-red cardigan and white button-down shirt, gray slacks and black Oxfords, Tywin Lannister looked like the man you did not want to cross, ever. He was six feet tall, lean-hipped and seemed to have only looked sharper around the ages as years passed. White was his hair now, his eyes a hard, penetrating green. Brienne saw that this would Jaime in the years to come but his eyes were warm and playful. This was one of the many things that set the two men apart from each other and she was grateful.

“Jaime, Tyrion,” Tywin said, looking deeply at Ty, smiling at him. “Hello, Ty. Your gramps has missed you.” He looked past Jaime’s shoulder and his smile widened. “Drew. You and your brother are chubby lions, aren’t you?” Then his eyes softened and he held out his arms. “Don’t hide behind my son, Brienne, and give your old goodfather a hug.” 

Tyrion tugged at Jaime’s pant leg and whispered to him, “Definitely Tywin’s favorite Lannister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! They're all there!


	5. For My Stag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Cersei POV and Loras wonders why he's not attracted to Sansa when she's the complete package.

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing and know nothing. 

One of the things that Cersei loved about Robert was how he liked children and knew how to communicate with them, despite being almost fifty. It was a wonderful thing to see, and energized her when she came home tired and sleepy only to find Robert reading to Joffrey in bed. 

As they had breakfast, she watched Robert take Joffrey in his arms and bid Lyra to join them. “I’m about to tell Joffrey a story about the lonely ice dragon,” he told her, “would you like to hear it?”

Sometimes, Cersei wondered if her life was a dream. There were days when she couldn’t believe that somebody like Robert actually loved her, all of her. Most people assumed that she didn’t know how she was perceived but she was, and it was intentional. Being the only living Lannister woman apart from Aunt Genna and two other cousins she couldn’t be bothered with, she had to project the image of a tough, fierce lioness. Tyrion and Jaime, being men, were already expected to be strong. Not much from her. She was to only look beautiful and make whoever man was at her arm look good.

But she learned early that her beauty could be a source of power. She wielded it, using it to her advantage yet never failing to remind anyone that she wasn’t all tits and ass, she actually had brains. It was always satisfying to prove people wrong. 

Medical school, despite admitting an equal number of women and men now, was still a place for the big boys. Sexual discrimination was rampant. If you were a beautiful woman, it was assumed you blew someone in admissions, or, her being a Lannister, Tywin paid for her admittance. Tywin was actually resistant about her pursuit of medicine, declaring that it wasn’t a woman’s job and she was never going to give her husband the support he deserved and needed if she was suturing or cutting up people. Cersei had to show him that this degree would serve as an advantage to the Lannisters—just think what she can do with pharmaceuticals, research and manufacturing. 

But discovering a new disease or coming up with a cure never figured in Cersei’s dream of becoming a doctor. She wanted to become a doctor because she wanted to help and cure people to the best that she could. Plus, no one expected that a rich girl like her would end up elbow-deep in human guts for a living and she liked that, people assuming her weak and weepy when she was the exact opposite.

When Robert Baratheon came along, Cersei had experienced the death of patients at her table. She viewed it as failure on her end until he told her that there was little to control in the operating room, no matter how many years you’ve been doing the procedure. Complications will arise. Blood pressure will rise. A patient can go into cardiac arrest. Cersei had cried on Robert’s laugh the day she lost a child on the operating table. 

“I can’t, I can’t go back there knowing. . .the child. . .the little boy,” she spoke haltingly, between sobs. “Robert, maybe, maybe. . .I should just. .do research. I can oversee Lannister Labs. . .”

“No,” Robert told her firmly. “You don’t belong there and the woman I love certainly does not belong slaving behind a lab with only petri dishes for company. You are a doctor, Cersei. That is the woman I want and the woman I know she wants to be.”

Understanding, supportive, patient—could a woman ask for more? Cersei certainly didn’t. But she was given more than she expected. She was given Joffrey and through him, found more reasons to love her husband more. 

This weekend, she would be forty-five years old. On the career front, Cersei had no complaints. Her life at home was beyond happiness. Yet she still longed to give Robert another child. It hurt that getting pregnant would always be difficult for her—she miscarried three times before Joffrey and when she gave birth to him the doctors advised her not to pregnant anymore as it would harm her and the unborn fetus. But Robert had so much love to give. Cersei had learned to accept this, and Robert too, seemed happy enough. At least, she thought, they had a child. At least, they were happy.

Until five days ago.

Five days ago when her period should have begun.

Five days ago when she began to wake to a nightmare. 

 

Loras and Sansa were across-the-hall-mates for the long weekend. It couldn’t be a more perfect arrangement, in Loras’ opinion. This meant he could walk her to her room, he could knock on her door in the morning and wake her up. Even better if she invited him in.

Sansa Stark looked like a princess straight out of a storybook. Her hair was a rich, thick auburn she wore to her waist, her eyes were dark blue, made more vivid with her creamy expression. Her smile was winsome. She tend to favour candy or rainbow colors, colors that intensified her wholesome prettiness. She was also tall and slender, with a deeply-curved waist and long, slim legs.  
He should be attracted to her, Loras thought. She was the type of woman he would have been attracted to as early as last year. He would have pursued. Heck, he would have gotten her into bed. Yet, try as he did, there was nothing about Sansa Stark the called to his cock. There wasn’t even the slightest hardening, not even when she bumped against him when she stepped back to avoid hitting Pod.

It wasn’t Sansa in his mind. It was. . .

Renly Baratheon.

Renly Baratheon whom he only met this morning.

Renly Baratheon with chocolate hair and chocolate eyes.

Renly Baratheon who winked at him and he shivered. 

Renly Baratheon who was at the other wing of the mansion.

Why not Sansa? Loras wondered, scratching his head. How can it not be Sansa?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapte: SMUT!   
> Sort of.


	6. The Bear and The Maiden Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's supposed to be sexytime becomes Fight Club.   
> Inspired by, anyway.

All characters by George RR Martin.

I own nothing and know nothing.

“Gods, I’m exhausted,” Jaime sighed later that night, flopping down the king-sized bed in relief. He loosened his tie and spread his arms.

He and Brienne were in his old bedroom, but this time with the room next door made easily accessible by removing part of the wall. It was there that the twins slept, Ty sucking on his thumb and Drew with this round bottom up in the air.

Jaime’s bedroom was done in navy and cream, a color scheme unchanged from the time he was in high school. He joked to Brienne that as far back as that, he must have been dreaming of her because she was that color with her astonishing eyes and pale skin. But other things were changed—the bed became bigger to accommodate his six-foot-two frame, toys were either put in the attic or donated, and replaced by books, painting and drawing equipment, photographs.

From the bed, he watched Brienne sit at its foot, bending as she pulled off her shoes. He liked her little black dress. It was cap-sleeved with a modest, scooped front and a scooped back that was positively sinful, at least for Jaime, as it showed a wide swath of her bare back and freckles. The skirt was fitted and was above the knee. At his request, Brienne had worn heels. She towered over him, she towered over everyone in the room, including Robert who was six-foot-five, but Jaime didn’t care. Not when those sexy high heels emphasized her long legs.The result was he had another of those boners but the discomfort would be worth it surely, he vowed to himself.

Brienne was now pulling at the zipper on the side of her dress. His voice husky, he told her, “Wife, if you’re going to strip, at least do it in front of me. Give me a show.”

She shook her head but he could tell she blushed. Her back flared red. “Don’t be ridiculous, husband.”

“That’s what I want from you for my birthday,” he said, grinning. “A striptease.”

“Is that all it takes for you to be happy on your special day?” Brienne turned around to look at him. “Um, me naked?”

He placed his foot on her lap and nudged at the short hem of her skirt. “Well, I was hoping you’d throw in a feast of your cunt and you’ll blow me—“

“Jaime!”

“What? You like it. When I talk like this.”

“Not when the children can hear you.”

“They don’t even know their names yet. That didn’t stop us from fucking by their cribs a few weeks ago.” Jaime turned wistful. “I’m glad you’re weaning them, Brienne. But you know what? I’m the man who can never stop thinking about your tits. Your milk is probably the best thing I’ve had on my tongue after your cunt. And your own tongue, of course. I will surely miss it. I kind of want to keep you pregnant so I’ll have an endless supply.”

Brienne turned. Her dress was low on her chest, giving him a view of her slight chest.  “You don’t mean that,” she said quietly.

Jaime crawled up behind her. He sat so his arms and legs surrounded her. “Oh, I do, I do want to,” he whispered against the side of her neck, licking it while his hands lowered her dress.

In the mirror across from them he watched her eyes close and her head fall on his shoulder. He cupped her breasts, squeezing them. “Your tits are softer now and your nipples are so pink and big. I like how I can put an entire breast in my mouth. You like it when I do that.”

He pinched her nipple and Brienne hissed. “You like that too,” he whispered. “My sweet, proper Brienne is a wildcat in bed.”

He kissed her, sucking on the soft skin on her neck and shoulder, pushing his tongue in her ear. His hands played with her breasts.

Then he lowered a hand to the heat between her thighs and brushed the springy curls before circling her entrance. He smiled against her skin when he felt her temperature rise.

“Always so wet,” he murmured. “Do I only have to look at you to get you like this? Then I’ll look at you all the time. I’ll leash you to me so I can take you to work and I’ll look at you and get you wet. You have the wettest, tightest cunt in Westeros.”

“Jaime,” Brienne moaned as his fingers pushed in.

“Remember what I told you when we got here?” He asked, alternating between kissing and licking her cheek.

“Um, yes. Jaime—“

“I told you I’m going to make you scream tonight. That I’ll make sure it rouses everyone in Casterly Rock. So that they’ll know I’m fucking you.” Jaime kissed her cheek. “When I told you that, you blushed, but I saw your nipples tighten in your sweater. Maybe you should wear a bra, wife. Your tits are very responsive. I wanted to drag you behind one of the trees and rip your shirt. ”

“Oh, gods, Jaime, please—“

“Where do you want my cock?” He licked her shoulder. “Your cunt? Your mouth? Or someplace else you still can’t say to me even when I’d taken you there many times? That you scream like a Wildling possessed when I fuck you there. You’re still so innocent, wife. I like that.”

“Jaime, I’m not feeling well,” Brienne said.

“All the more why I should fuck you. We both know fucking makes you feel loads better afterwards.”” He ran a finger down her arm.

“Not this time,” Brienne was firm. She removed his hands from her breasts and cunt and straightened to her feet, the dress pooling on the floor. “Jaime—I—well, um, I have a headache,” she said, looking at him briefly, giving him only a glimpse of her glorious body clad in tiny black knickers. Then she surprised him when she covered her breasts and went to the bathroom.

 

In the bathroom, Brienne turned on the faucet full blast and splashed the cold water on her face. She gasped, shivering for a moment before she threw more water to her heated cheeks. _He wanted to keep her pregnant. He wanted her leashed to him_. Gods.

When she fell in love and married him, she was well aware that Jaime Lannister was an arrogant son of a bitch but she never once thought that he would be a misogynistic, arrogant son of a bitch. Worst of all, she hated, absolutely hated how her body responded to his words, wanting to be _leashed,_ wanting to be _pregnant_. Pregnant! Okay. The man was good. His kisses were lethal and his touch was her kryptonite but the gall of him to tell her he fully intended to keep her pregnant just so. . .just so he had her milk all the time. Brienne didn’t know whether to be disgusted or turned on. Since she was pissed with what he wanted from her, all he wanted from her, she went with disgust.

How can he be so selfish? She thought, turning on the shower jets and wincing as hot and cold water rained on her skin. How could he just assume that she’d want to be pregnant again so soon, how could he think, after all they’d gone through, that she was simply a warm cunt for his cock to park in and. . _.multiply?!?_ Did he expect her to produce Lannisters as if on an assembly line?

Brienne was scrubbing her skin with soap until it reddened when she heard the door open. She jumped, dropping the soap as the hazy outline of her husband materialized before the steamy glass door.

“What’s going on?” He demanded.

“What the fuck are you doing in here? I’m showering, Jaime!” Brienne screamed in outrage when he threw the door the shower open and stood there before her. He had removed his tie and jacket, the tails of his shirt were now freed from his pants. He was flushed and his eyes were narrow, sharp daggers that took in her face, the water soapy water dripping down her chest, between her legs to her toes.

“You never lie to me, Brienne,” Jaime roared. “You never, ever, lie to me!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered although yes, she did. Oh she did.

“You have a headache? You don’t want to fuck because you have a headache?” He growled. “You, who told me that having my cock in your cunt is a lot better than popping a Tylenol, you who couldn’t even keep your hands off me when you had the flu—“

“You mauled me when you should be rubbing Vick’s on me!”

“Seven hells, are we back to that?”

“If you’re going to remember it differently, then yes!”

“Why did you lie to me?”

“I-I-I did not lie!” Stormy green eyes collided with indignant blue.

“You’re lying now.”

“Why do you care when you only want to keep me pregnant and leashed. When all you want from me is to pop out Lannisters!”

Jaime actually stomped his foot. He winced. “I never said anything like that!”

“Well, I certainly did not imagine it!”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Now who’s lying?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, you still have that card, wife.”

“Can’t we discuss this when I’m dressed?”

“No. If I can’t fuck you, then I’m to see you naked.”

“How in seven hells is that logical?” “Honesty, wife. You should try it.” “Fuck you, Lannister.” “You would be, if you hadn’t made up that ridiculous lie. You’re too kind, too good, too fucking noble to lie, Brienne. A blind man can see through it. If you don’t want me tonight, then just say it, you don’t need to fucking bloody lie about a headache.”

“Lannisters lie.”

“That’s not the kind of Lannister you want to be.”

They stood there, glaring at each other, Brienne fighting the urge to throw her arms around Jaime and pull him in with her and let him take her because yes, though she didn’t want to be pregnant again so soon, she could learn to accept the fact, just as long as Jaime no longer looked at her with anger. Jaime’s arousal was harder to ignore. His cock was practically pushing against his pants. He wanted to yank Brienne to his chest and pelt her body with kisses, punishing her for lying to him, punishing her with his cock until he drew out the most honest response from her.

Neither knew what could have happened if they’ve been left alone because of the firm knock that reached the door.

“We’re not done with this,” Jaime told Brienne. His eyes swept her from head to toe. “If you so much as wear a single stitch of clothing I will rip if off you.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s cold.”

“I told you. If I don’t get to fuck you then I’m going to see you naked. And if we resolve whatever it is that caused you to lie to me tonight, you’d be wearing me to bed. I mean it. Not a single stitch, wife.” Arrogant Lannister that he was, his exit was nothing short of impressive. He shut the door just as Brienne threw the soap at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their fights might even be foreplay.


	7. Let Me Tell You A Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei and Brienne by the fire. And a new arrival!

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing and know nothing. 

When Jaime opened the door, he was startled to find his sister standing before him. With her long blond hair loose, her face devoid of makeup, he saw the dark circles under her green eyes and a line at the corner of her mouth similar to his. She raised her eyebrow when she saw him still dressed. She was in a red flannel robe, a white t-shirt with the words King’s Landing Law School in front and thick, track bottoms with a hole on one knee.

“Well, it’s good to see you’re not yet asleep,” she said, trying to look around his shoulder to see into his room. “Where’s Brienne?”  
“Showering.”

“Will she be long?”

Before Jaime could answer, a door shut hard behind him. He turned, giving Cersei the view of Brienne flushed, a thick, towel robe on her body, and a scowl on her face that looked like she was ready to kill. “You do not,” she said to Jaime, the veins in her neck straining, “talk to me like that. You do not speak to me like that. I’m your wife—“

“Cersei’s here,” Jaime told her, his voice strained. He moved so he could show her.

Brienne turned redder. “Cersei,” she breathed. “Um, what are you doing here?”

“I was wondering if I could talk to you.” Cersei said. “Would you mind terribly? It can’t wait until morning, I’m afraid.”

“S-Sure. Come in.”

Cersei glanced at Jaime. “Er. . .”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “I’ll leave.”

“Um, Brienne,” Cersei looked unsure. “I hate to ask, I really do being that it’s late and you’re just about to get ready for bed—“

“That’s not happening anytime soon,” Brienne interrupted, glaring at Jaime. He hung his head.

“Well. If that’s so, then would you mind if we go to the study? I’ve a fire going there. I’ll wait for you?” Cersei suddenly smiled. “Would you like hot chocolate? With marshmallows?”

“I think I need something harder,” Brienne said to herself but Cersei heard her.

“Ah, there’s drinks there, of course. But wouldn’t hot chocolate be better?” I can’t have alcohol! Cersei thought, barely concealing her alarm.

“I suppose. Okay. I’ll meet you there?”

“Yes, please.” 

Jaime shut the door to Cersei’s face, causing her to step back quickly. Something’s up, she thought. Maybe she could ask Brienne later but right now, she really needed to unload to her goodsister.

In the study, Cersei stoked the fire then stretched her hands towards it. As a child, she would come down here in secret and have herself a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows. It must be a strange thing to find comfort in the place where she and her brothers were hardly allowed, but that was the thrill of it for her. That she could have a fire to herself, a warm drink and feel herself quite grounded. Casterly Rock wasn’t the homiest place on earth with its antiques and dark, heavy furniture and it was odd, she knew, to complain to be surrounded with such finery but she was happiest when getting her hands dirty. She loved grooming her horse, Queen of the Andals, feeding her, cleaning her stall. There were servants to do it for her but her horse was her responsibility and it made their bond strong.

It broke her heart when Queen was sold after she refused to ride again. To this day, Cersei had never been atop a horse, freezing and feeling her heart about to burst from her chest the last time she was forced to. When she watched her old competition videos, she felt pain for the girl she never will be but then she would look, remember, her life now and realize she might have gotten the better end of the deal, after all. As freeing as it was to be a horse, there were things she’d have to be careful about had she pursued being an equestrienne. One was the sport, elegant and graceful as it was, could be dangerous. You could never tell what might spook a horse, it just happened. She was lucky she only broke her neck and her back and not something worse. Tywin wouldn’t forgive her if she had.

Cersei was sitting on the sofa, staring at the two mugs of steaming hot chocolate when she heard the door open behind her. She smiled gratefully as Brienne sat next to her. 

Brienne would never be considered pretty, Cersei thought, but there was a loveliness about her, a fragility despite her wide, strong frame. She was thirty-five years old but with her damp hair and flushed cheeks she looked younger. She wore a black robe, a faded gray sweatshirt and green plaid pajamas. 

“Is this a bad time to talk?” Cersei asked. With Brienne, she knew it was better to get her to talk on her own rather than ask her point-blank. Her brother had never looked at her with such annoyance before and there was no denying that Brienne looked ready to smash his face on the wall. Cersei had almost backed out but the door was already open.

“I wonder why I’m with him,” Brienne said after a few seconds of silence.

Startled, Cersei put a hand on her knee. “Brienne?”

“I’ve always thought that he sees me. All of me. But lately. . .I’ve been wondering if he sees me. If he looks at me.” It took another short silence before Brienne spoke. Then she sighed and ran a hand through her hair, a gesture that reminded Cersei of Jaime. 

“We’re not here to talk about me. You said you wanted to talk to me. What can I do for you?”

Cersei went for the direct approach. But she took a sip of the sweet, hot drink first, for courage. 

“I’m pregnant.”

“What?” 

“I’m not yet sure,” Cersei said quickly. “I mean, I have the symptoms. And I know I should know because I’m a doctor but. . .but I’m late.”

“How late?”

“Five days.”

“Then why do you look so bloody miserable? Shouldn’t you be happy? You want another child, don’t you?” Brienne snapped at her. 

“I’ll be forty-five this weekend,” Cersei shot back. “Before Joffrey I lost two. . .you didn’t know. Robert and I never mentioned it to anyone. And. . .Brienne, after Joffrey, I vowed never to get pregnant again. I was so afraid, so afraid I will lose him. I still am. And now I’m forty-five and I want so much to give Robert another child, have you seen him with children? How can I not want him to give another? But I’m forty-five—“

“You keep saying that.”

“’I’m forty-five! You know why I lost my two babies before? Robert and I. . .we’ve mismatched chromosomes, that’s one way of looking at it. Incompatible, if you will. Joffrey was the luck of the draw. I was thirty-two when I first got pregnant, lost it. We cried but we resolved to try again. I was thirty-six when it happened next. This time we went for testing. That’s how we found out. We were told we can try, it will happen but there was the strong possibility it might not. And then Joffrey. . .”

Cersei’s shoulders shook.

“Joffrey is our miracle. Then I was told that the older I get, the higher the risks and I couldn’t. . .I couldn’t go through it again. Robert and I talked about it. I was going to have the procedure—“

“Cersei,” Brienne put her hand over the small one still on her knee.

She shook her head. “Ligation is done all the time, Brienne. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bear the thought of not having any more children despite the warnings, despite my being a doctor. Can you believe that? I should know better. Robert. . .Robert thinks that I. . .that I. . ." shecouldn't finish saying it. 

“He thinks you went on with it.”

“Yes. I’ve never seen him so broken when we lost our second child, Brienne. And now I’m pregnant and I’m going to lose it and oh gods, what I’ll be doing to him--”

“Stop that.” Brienne held her hands. Her blue eyes were lit with determined fire. “You can’t think that, Cersei.”

“But. . .” she whimpered the other woman shook her head. She hung her head. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I’m crying and keeping you from your husband.”

“He can rot in Seven Hells,” Brienne growled. When Cersei opened her mouth to ask, Brienne shook her head again. “Not now.” 

“Brienne, what am I going to do? I’m so sorry to dump this on you but I can’t talk to Robert and. . .and I really don’t have friends. Female friends, you know.”

Brienne was about to speak to her when they heard loud voices outside. Cersei frowned and got to her feet, striding like a model on the catwalk despite her floppy slipper. Brienne stumbled after her as Cersei opened the door. The voices seemed to come from the foyer. The two women looked at each other and followed the sound.

Podrick was struggling to pull a trolley behind him but a man with thick, messy, curly black hair kept on slapping him on the back, laughing loudly. Cersei, looking every inch of the lioness of Casterly Rock that she was, demanded, “What is going on here?”

Podrick looked up, looking relieved. “Miss Cersei—“

“Aha! So you’re Cersei!” The man with him exclaimed loudly. His gray eyes shone as he looked past Cersei Baratheon. “Brienne. Keeper of my heart. Heartkeeper.”

“You can’t say things like that here, Jon,” Brienne warned him but she was walking around Cersei with her arms held out to him.  
Jon Snow was dressed in head-to-toe black, looking sharper and more devastating than he ever had. He was much shorter than Brienne but carried himself tall and proud. He kissed her soundly on the cheek and locked her to his side with his arm around her waist.

“He’s drunk,” Brienne told Cersei. She wrinkled her nose.

“I had a tipple or two on the plane,” Jon admitted, leaning his head on her shoulder. “You try sitting next to a squealing Dothraki infant. I worried the brat would wake up the Targaryen dragons of old. But wouldn’t that be fun? I fancy myself a dragonrider. It would be most awesome—“

“Let me introduce you to Cersei Baratheon, my goodsister,” Brienne said, steering him towards the still-frowning woman. As she did, Podrick excused himself with the bag but not before whispering to Brienne which room had been assigned to Jon. She nodded and turned back to Cersei. “Cersei, I apologize in advance for introducing you to my good friend Jon Snow.”

“You’re Jaime’s sister,” Jon went to her, his grin naughty, his eyes gleaming. “Wow. So if Jaime were a woman he’d look like you. Have you done lingerie modelling before?”

“Jon!” Brienne exclaimed. To her surprise, Cersei giggled.

“That’s not what you expect to hear when wearing your husband’s clothes and feeling like shit,” Cersei told her.

“You look like an untouchable queen,” Jon declared, “that I’d very much like to touch. You'd feel much better and I too.”

The mirth vanished from Cersei’s face. “If you do I’ll be more than happy to step aside and let my husband break your nose.”

“You’re worth every broken bone my body will have, my queen.”

Cersei laughed again and told Brienne, “He really is like this? I thought you were exaggerating.”

“You’ve talked about me, eh?” Jon grinned at Brienne then at her. “What did she say?”

“Things I never thought were true until tonight.”

“I’d love to show you more true things about me, Cersei.”

Brienne sighed loudly. “Let’s take you to bed, Jon.”

“Ah,” he said, going back to her side. “Finally going to have your way with me, are you? I told you that Lannister isn’t worth one piece of you.” 

“Shut up, Jon. Uh, Cersei? Will. . .”

“We can talk tomorrow,” Cersei said. She smiled at Jon. “I think I just got what I needed. For tonight, at least. Thank you, Brienne. Jon Snow, I’m most pleased to make your friendship.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Jon Snow is back!


	8. The Morning AFter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations!

Jaime jerked awake when he heard the birds singing outside the window. Blinking, he glared at the white brilliance of the sun that drifted unfiltered into the room. Remembering, he turned and saw that Brienne’s side of the bed was untouched.  
She had not come back to him.

His first thought that maybe Cersei had gotten his wife drunk and they were still passed out somewhere in the manor. Jaime pulled on a robe and slipped on his shoes. As he did, he noticed something else in the morning, in his room.

It was quiet.

He ran to the other room. The cribs were empty.

“Brienne!” He shouted, running out of the bedroom. He stormed down the curving staircase, cursing its many steps. “Brienne!”  
“I think I already heard enough of your screaming last night, Jaime,” said an all-too familiar voice somewhere below. Jaime reached the bottom step and saw Tywin Lannister sitting on the couch. He was dressed in a black turtleneck and tan pants and was reading the newspaper.

Flushing, Jaime said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I was taking a walk last night when I passed by your window. You’d have waken the dead in the family crypt had you been louder. The things you said to Brienne,” Tywin looked displeased as he set the paper aside. “I wonder how she can stand you.”

“She lied to me.”

“You’re acting like a child. People lie all the time and not just Lannisters. And so what if she did? Did that mean you had the right to talk to her that way. I’m beginning to think you were a lot nicer to Aerys Targaryen.”

“Don’t,” Jaime growled, “mention that name to me ever again.”

“Then treat your wife with respect. She is my daughter. Yes, Jaime, I see her as my blood. You don’t talk to anyone of my blood that way.”

“Oh, what’s this?” Jaime said sarcastically. “Tywin Lannister, protector of Brienne Lannister, my wife?”

“To the death, if needed.”

“You only like her because she’s added to the Lannister line.”

“How dare you.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it? You never cared for Cersei because she’s only half, she’ll never sire Lannisters. Tyrion has no interest, so you don’t really care for him. Meanwhile, since I’ve managed to get sons from Brienne, she’s suddenly all special and important to you. We know you wouldn’t care if we had a daughter.”

“I’m sorry you have such a terrible opinion of me.”

“You ensured I wouldn’t think otherwise.”

“A pity when I wouldn’t want you to think your wife has left you and taken your children with her. As she should.”

Jaime froze. Tywin went back to reading the newspaper.

“Where’s Brienne?” His voice sounded hollow as his heart drummed hard in his chest.

“Why should I tell you? It’s shameful the way you treat her, Jaime.”

“I’ve been collecting atrocities my entire life, Father. Do you think it would affect me to have one more?”

“I wouldn’t know, Jaime. You’re certainly not the son I raised. No son of mine would be so hateful and obscene to his wife.”

“Again, I ask. Where’s Brienne?”

“Brienne? She told me she’s off to run some errands, buy some things, who knows,” Tyrion answered, entering through the patio. He was munching on an apple. “She left ten minutes ago. She took the twins with her. You're not a sight for sore eyes, brother. You look like Seven Hells.”

“Did she mention where she’s going?”

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know where your wife is?”

“Of course I do,” Jaime could feel Tywin looking at him. His cheeks pinked. “I was, ah, still sleepy when she told me. I wasn’t listening.”

“It’s not like you to not listen your wife. I know you,” Tyrion finished the other half of the apple before turning the fruit. 

“I was sleepy. Being home makes me very comfortable.”

“Hah. You almost convinced me, brother.”

“Watch it, Tyrion,” Tywin warned.

“We Lannister children are just delighted to be in this fortress,” Tyrion told him, earning a glare.

“Look, what must I do to know where my wife and children are?” Jaime demanded from the two men. “Do you want me to kneel? Cut off my hand? Throw myself down one of those swords in the armory? Because I’ll do it.”

“No need to get dramatic, Jaime,” Tywin sounded bored. He turned a page. “She just went for a drive.”

“A drive? This early in the morning?” Jaime suddenly realized he hadn’t checked if her things and their sons’ were still in the room.

“She wanted to stretch her legs and do a little shopping. I don’t know why you’re so worried. Gods, you are so clingy, Jaime. She’s alright. She’s with that friend of hers and Renly.” Tyrion finished the apple. “Jon Snow. Most entertaining character I’ve met, if you must know. Didn’t they use to date?”

 

Margaery invited Lollys and Cersei for a walk in the gardens after breakfast. Robert and Bronn stayed behind with Lyra and Joffrey. Loras, suddenly finding himself free, invited Sansa if she would like to see the town with him. She readily agreed. As nice as Casterly Rock was, she found it stifling.

The three women who continued in their walk were dressed in jackets and sweaters, jeans for Cersei and Lollys, a long, cashmere skirt for Margaery. Margaery, used to warmth, worn her boots. Cersei and Lollys wore flats. 

“My mother and I used to take lots of walks here,” Cersei said as Margaery led them down a path leading to the greenhouse. “She said that she put down every brick we’re on now,” she tapped it lightly with her foot. “It was one weekend with Father. She sounded so happy when she told me.”

“My mother was not one to do things with her hands,” Margaery mused. “She was a whiz at delegating. It was my grandmother Olenna who told me to not just sit and look pretty but to go out there and do something. They never got along.”

“Mom was a nurse,” Lollys shared. “She wanted me to be one but I liked to paint. She couldn’t understand how I could throw my life away on watercolours and crayons.”

Cersei took her by the arm and they continued walking.

“Do you worry if we’ll turn out like our mothers?” Margaery asked Lollys. 

Cersei laughed. “Am not I included?”

“Your mother seemed nice,” Lollys told her. “I mean, our mothers are nice but I don’t think I’ve seen my mom happy and smiling. She was always so tired.”

“But maybe I have only that memory because I didn’t have her for long. I lost her when I was seven. When you’re a child, you skate over the unpleasant, if there are. It’s the happy ones that stay. And I’m glad. Still, it reminds me that I don’t really know her and I never will,” Cersei said.

“I don’t think we’ll know our mothers completely,” Margaery said. “Or anyone.”

“But what about the feeling, the assurance, you know someone? Like, really know someone?” Lollys asked them. “I can say that with Bronn.”

Cersei nodded. “I can say that with Robert.”

They looked expectantly at Margaery. She looked embarrassed.

“I don’t know with Tyrion.”

“But you’ve been together for more than a year,” Cersei pointed out. “Isn’t there something about him you’re sure about?”

Margaery’s brown eyes were soft. “I know he loves me.”

“Then that’s all you need to know,” Lollys said.

Cersei, having stared off into space, said after a moment, “Yes.”

“Have you ever had. . .I don’t know, a conversation with Bronn or Robert, where you weren’t sure if he will love you when he knows, but you started it, the conversation, because you loved him and trusted him to still love you afterward?”

Cersei looked at her curiously. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Margaery looked at her shoes. “We’ve never talked about children. It’s insane, right? We talk about world issues, the environment, we debate about Pop Tarts and waffles, Dornish spices, he tells me how hard it is to be president and he can’t believe he’s made it through one term and they’ve just renewed him and I’ve told him how I want to strangle Olenna sometimes with how she’s always pushing me to be more and more. He told me he loves me. Many times. And I him. He’s seen me cry, get sick. I’ve seen him hungover. It’s not pretty and I know I really love him still when he threw up on my favorite jeans. But not once, not once, have we talked about children. Not once.” She shook her head slowly as she looked up at them, looking like a pretty child.

“Bronn and I didn’t talk about children for a long time. It only came up after he asked to marry me,” Lollys assured her.

“Robert told me that as I was stitching him up from a hunting wound, he saw the mother of his children.” Cersei’s voice was tender, as if she was speaking more to herself than them. 

“Neither of you are helping!”

“I’m sorry,” Cersei said quickly. “We’re sorry. But why are you talking to us and not to Tyrion? All we’ll tell you is have that conversation with him and face the music.”

“I’m late,” Margaery blurted out.

“Late for what? Are we supposed to be somewhere?” Lollys looked at her watch, stiffened then looked at Margaery. “Oh. That late.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Margaery said. “I love him but I don’t know if he loves me enough to have children with me.”

“How late are you?” Cersei asked.

“Four days,” Margaery whispered. “I'm regular. I’ve never been late.” She threw her hands to her face. “Gods, what am I going to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, are Brienne, Cersei and Margaery pregnant?   
> And did Jaime just get schooled by Tywin? Ooh.


	9. Best Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne takes the kids out for the day and Jon and Renly join her.  
> Also, revelations!

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I know nothing and own nothing.

Brienne’s head really hurt this time, as did her back and legs. The hard-backed sofa in the study wasn’t the most comfortable place for sleep, let alone for somebody as tall as she was. The discomfort had been worth the sight of her babies’ faces in the early morning light, however. 

She had glared at Jaime, who was fast asleep and looking damned comfortable in bed, as if he had never done anything wrong. She wanted to knock his teeth down his throat but she couldn’t even think of touching him right now, not even in anger, not even to hurt him. She was so disgusted at how he saw her, at what he said to her that as soon as she was dressed, she woke up the twins and put them in warm play clothes and spirited them out of the room. 

She knew if she didn’t bring them with her, she would take much longer coming back. Then she knocked on Renly’s and Jon’s doors, asked them if they wanted to join her and the children for a drive. If they thought it strange that she was up and dressed so early in the morning and wanting to go out, they didn’t say anything. She told them to meet her at the front steps, where she will be waiting in the SUV. Tywin, who was also an early riser, saw her as he was finishing his morning walk. 

Oh, how she wanted to ignore him, or tell him how she hated his son but she rose above that and forced herself in a civilized conversation with him. Then he left to get himself a protein shake. Tyrion came up to her soon after. He played with the twins first before he left in search for food. 

As soon as Jon and Renly were with her, she took off, barely able to keep her foot off the accelerator. She couldn’t stand the sight of Casterly Rock and if she could stay out of it for the rest of the day, she would. 

She drove them to a diner in town. Brienne and Renly each took a baby carrier while Jon walked ahead of them, quickly securing them a seat by the window. He was quiet, barely looking at the waitress as they ordered. 

They were all quiet, barely speaking to each other as they ate. Brienne spooned some soft-boiled eggs into Ty’s and Drew’s small lips. 

Renly and Jon looked at each other. Then Renly spoke up.

“What’s going on?”

“Breakfast,” Brienne said, wiping the bit of egg goo that dripped down Ty’s chin.

“Does it have something to do with that gods-awful fight I heard last night?” Renly asked directly. Jon looked curious.

Brienne kept her head down as she sipped her coffee. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You and I share a bathroom wall. When the water’s off you hear things.”

“Why was your water off?” Brienne demanded. “And why were you listening?”

“I was brushing my teeth.”

“What did Jaime do?” Jon asked her.

“Better I don’t repeat what he said,” Renly told him. His eyes were dark and serious as they bored on Brienne. “Is he like that? Really like that?”

“He’s never said anything that awful to me before, if that’s what you’re asking. And he’s never laid a hand on me. I’d kill him first.”

“How can you let him say those things to you? Why didn’t t you fight back?” 

“You think I didn’t? I thought you were eavesdropping.”

“Overheard.”

“Same difference.”

“Really? We’re going to talk about ethics or proper behaviour here and not how your husband was to you last night?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine Don’t talk about it with us. But you better talk to him about it or I will hurt him, Brienne,” Renly told her. “I won’t allow him to treat you that way.”

“You think I allowed him? You think I like it? I’m as shocked as you are. He was so horrible and so—he’s not the man I knew. I thought I knew.”

The last words were dragged out of her like a knife from a wound. Brienne put her hands on her face and sobbed. Drew looked at his mother, his eyes round and bright. Jon touched him on the cheek, but his eyes were sober as they looked Brienne.

Renly stood from his seat and dropped beside her. He put his arms around her and Brienne pressed her face on his shoulder.

“We’re here for you,” he whispered, hugging her tight to him.

“I want to hurt him,” Brienne gasped.

“You should,” Jon said.

“I want him to feel as I do and more,” she continued.

“He should.”

Brienne cried into Renly’s shirt for a few minutes more before she slowly picked her head up. Her eyes were watery, red-rimmed pools. Renly had to struggle being gentle with her as he wiped her tears with his knuckles. Jon’s face betrayed no emotion except for the hard look in his eyes.

“I don’t know how I’ll survive the following days there,” Brienne sighed. Renly still kept his arm around her. She smiled at her twins. She touched Ty on the nose and he smiled, yawning. “Thank the gods they’re with me.”

“We’re also with you,” Jon told her. “All the way. No matter what.”

“You’re good friends. Good men.”

After a few minutes, they resumed eating their breakfast. Jon was the first to speak afterward

“So, where are you taking us next? I think we’ll be out all day,” he said, smiling at the twins and sticking his tongue out at them. Ty laughed and did the same while Drew blew a raspberry. Brienne shook her head.

“Nice work, Snow.”

“But they look so cute!”

“There isn’t much to see here,” Renly said. “But we can go for a drive to the Sunset Sea. Maybe have a picnic. It’s the one place worth seeing.”

“I think they’ll love that,” Brienne said as Ty wrapped his little fist around her finger. “Shall we go to the Sunset Sea, my love?”

 

They stayed out the entire day. It was too cold to go into the sea, and the winds were sharp and icy on Brienne’s cheeks. Yet she sat by the sand, her toes buried in its soft, velvety crush. A few feet from her, Jon and Renly held the babies to their laps as they built a sand castle. Or tried to. Drew apparently liked the weird, wet texture and he would drive his fists into the little structure the two men made. Ty was content to watch, his eyes wide as he followed every hand movement around him. 

She looked out at the gray ocean rising before her in strong, violent waves. The sun was up and bright but did not feel warm enough. It looked pale, a hazy disc in the blue-gray horizon before her. 

She and Jaime had arguments before but never, he had never said things as he had last night to her. They were hurtful and clearly disregarded the person she was, his wife, the mother of his sons, the woman he was supposed to respect and love. She didn’t feel any of that last night. And she was ready to admit to herself she hadn’t felt it for a long time, not since that first night in his kitchen when he confessed to her how she made him want to be a better man, that looking into her eyes was his end. Those words still haunted her. 

Back then, she thought, no, she believed that when he looked in her eyes and declared they were his end, it meant the death of Jaime Lannister, arrogant, self-centered, easygoing, selfish, self-proclaimed asshole. He overwhelmed her with his passion, his hunger. Oh, he was childish and many times being with him felt like towing a spoiled, petulant brat but she loved him. She loved how he saw her, saw all of her, she loved how he loved their sons, she loved when he made love to her until the truth hit her square in the face last night. 

She always thought that living with Jaime Lannister meant falling harder in love with him. In recent months, she had had to love him harder. Find it in herself to love him. We don’t get to choose whom we love, Jaime told her once. She thought it romantic back then, a soulful thing for him to say. But she was slowly learning that while it was love that fuelled a relationship at first, it was choice, the willingness, to stay in a relationship that made it last. Love can only take you so far, she thought. 

And maybe they’d reached the end of the line.

Gods, it hurt. 

She gently pressed her hands on her stomach. Give me something, she thought, please. 

She heard someone running to her. She smiled as Jon came to her, Drew wrapped securely in his arms. She held out her arms to him and the baby smiled, squealing. Brienne set him on his little feet on the sand, between her legs. He stamped his feet and he giggled. The sand must tickle him, she thought, kissing him on the cheek, the forehead, on his head. 

Jon sat down beside her. He had kicked off his boots. The edges of his pants were rolled to his knees and damp. 

“There’s the sun,” he said, shielding his eyes.

“I’m sorry I haven’t gotten around to asking how you were,” Brienne told him as Drew squealed again and jumped before sitting back on his little rump. Discovering a new game, he started jumping and deliberately landing on his butt. Brienne laughed but held him firmer.

“Well, Winterfell is cold the rest of the year but particularly harsh in the winter,” Jon said, leaning back on his elbows. “It doesn’t have much of a city life, which is why I’m writing more.”

Brienne smiled at him. “I have your two books.”

“You want me to sign it? I can draw a naked Jon there.”

“No.”

“Though I’d ask. Aren’t you glad I it? I wish I didn’t, now. I should have gone ahead.”

“Is there no one in your life?”

“I think what I’m meant to have is a lot of someones.” As Brienne blushed he added, “Nah. I don’t think there’s anyone for me. I’ve been looking for more than half my life and she isn’t there. She’s as elusive as the Maiden.” 

“Don’t you find it sad?”

He looked at her. “So Jaime’s it for you, then?”

“We’re not talking about me now. We’re talking about you.”

“And I’ve just told you the sum of my life at fun, exciting Winterfell.”

“Are you happy?”

“Strangely, I am. Maybe that’s where I’m headed to. A respectable scholar with legendary sheet moves. That’s not so bad.”

“So you’re not with anyone at all? No one you’re seeing more than once?”

He grinned. “You’ve ruined me for all women, Tarth.”

“Stop that. You shouldn’t have lied to Tyrion. We never dated.”

“Too bad. It’s my fault, you know. I finally started to see you when Jaime Lannister came along. Not that I had a chance. You never looked at me, not even once. That asshole also worked fast.”

“Stop teasing me.”

“This time I’m not.”

She looked at him, her eyes searching. “Jon?”

He held up his hand. “No, I’m not carrying a torch for you or loving you from afar. That’s why I went to Winterfell after graduation, Brienne. I knew the only way I’d stop pining for you was to remove myself. That was the only way to do it. Had to pull you from the roots.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Because I saw how happy you are. Were? I saw you happy. My mistake was I loved you too much to fight for you. I will always love you, Brienne, but not in the way I did years ago. Thank the gods.”

“Good. I thought for a moment there I was going to get slick and charming Jon who will take advantage of my situation.”  
“Nah. You’d hate me if I did that. If you hated me I’d never be in your life again. Not worth it.”

Drew was beginning to settle down. Brienne sighed. “I’m glad you told me this, Jon.”

“Of course, the timing isn’t perfect. Maybe I should have waited for, I don’t know, a thousand years. But maybe a thousand years wouldn’t make the difference. Maybe it will still be you and Jaime.”

She shook her head. “I doubt that.”

“I don’t know what he said. But from how angry Renly was I can deduce it’s unforgivable but. . .”

“What?”

“You have to fight him, Brienne.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have to fight to get back the man you love. He’s still there. You have to give all you have, if you have to bleed, if both of you have to bleed, then by the gods, let it flow. Only then will you know if he’s still there, if he’s still it. I’m not saying you should forgive him. Again, I don’t know exactly what he said. But you have to tell him he can’t say those things to you, whatever they are. You have to make it clear he’s hurt you and if he does anything like that again you’re gone. You deserve better than Lannister but it seems your heart’s chosen him. But you have to remember no one has the right to hurt you as he did.”

“Don’t presume to know what goes on with me, Jon.”

“I’ve known you longer. I loved you for a while. I think that gives me some right although you are correct. But I can’t help it.”

“I still want to hurt him,” Brienne said dully.

“As I told you, you should.”

“It’s not as easy you think.”

“Of course it’s not.”

Brienne suddenly hugged Drew and held him tight.

Jon looked at her. “Brienne?”

“I might be pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know.  
> Jon had a thing for Brienne?
> 
> Additional: I skate over on some medical issues raised here because 1) going into a lot of detail hardly helps the plot and 2) I have no medical background so if I do a really long explanation, say via one character, it's going to come off as a Wikipedia entry ( yikes) or just...wrong. I'm saying this now because I'm sure this would be raised. 
> 
> Things that happen here, I asked people about or went out to check for myself ( such as, dun, dun, dun, a sprained ankle-- no I didn't intentionally hurt myself but it's happened to me). So there is research. You just have to sieve through a lot of information, counter- check with those in the know, see with them how likely some things are, how implausible. Going with the latter seems more fun. It's not done as much and I'd like to see what I can do with it. Yes, I love the readers' response and I'm wowed with how they muse about certain situations they would like to see the characters in. It gets me really excited to write! Now what I do and how it's done won't be everyone's cup of tea. That's normal. But when I write, I can tell you for a fact that the divide between where the story wants to go and what people want gets blurred. It happens. I would like to think I' m faithful to the story first and that's what comes out. 
> 
> I hope this doesn't offend anyone. I'm not. But it seemed important to clarify some things.
> 
> I would also like to mention some of the stories/ series I like so you may check them out if you haven't yet. I love Honor Thy Regard, Adventures of the Crazy, The Blood Drive, Just One Word, I Will Not Close my eyes. There's also a BDSM Jaime and Brienne fic whose title escapes me. It's WIP but it's sooo good. Also a oneshot where Jaime marries Brienne to save her and he gives her blood. I'm sorry I can't remember the last two but maybe you can identify them?


	10. Sighting the Maiden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are not going so well at Casterly Rock so Loras and Sansa go for a drive. Renly unloads and Jon makes an offer that can't be refused.

After lunch, Loras and Sansa left Casterly Rock in Margaery’s sports car. For Sansa, it was a relief to leave Casterly Rock. Not just because the elegance and the quiet of the place, in spite of guests, wasn’t something she was used to. Jaime’s temper was black. He was nice to Sansa, or at least civil, speaking to her without gnashed teeth. But he was snappish to Tyrion, glared daggers at Tywin and Robert, rolled his eyes at Margaery and Cersei. He was pleasant to Lollys but he was so pleasant that the woman all but retreated behind her husband, who gave Jaime a warning look. 

That sobered up Jaime, long enough, at least, to realize that everyone in his company was slowly plotting to put him in the family crypt sooner than he’d like. Sansa felt sorry for him. Throughout the day, she heard whispers about the huge row he had with Brienne last night. She couldn’t imagine them even disagreeing but then, she’d only seen them long enough to leave her instructions for the twins’ care for the day and they never got home from work at the same time. The little she’d seen was a passionate, playful couple who loved each other truly. 

She had yet to see Brienne today but it was clear that Jaime ended up worse for wear. His green eyes did not have their usual shine and his words had none of the playful bite he was known for. His treatment of people ranged from exceeding politeness to barely concealed resentment. The general consensus was Jaime was an asshat and though she felt sorry for him, it still didn’t give him the right to treat people like mud under his shoes. She sided with the others too. 

Robert was bored that all he could do was sit around and nurse an injured ankle. Cersei sat with him, reminding him sternly to baby his ankle but her eyes were warm with love as she spoke to him. Bronn and Lollys sat with them too. Joffrey and Lyra were running around with bubbles and this was enough to distract them, their laugh and giggles ringing across the yard. Margaery had disappeared, it seemed, and Tyrion looked a little concerned until she showed up from inside the house. 

Sansa was replaying these scenes in her mind as Loras drove. He was a smooth driver and stayed well under the speed limit, a rare thing these days. 

His hair was a shock of long, messy, light brown curls that turned into the color of honey under the light. He had a clear, golden gaze that was friendly, framed with thick, long eyelashes that Sansa thought was a little too feminine. He was both handsome and beautiful, definitely not a man you missed. 

They had been playing with Joffrey and Lyra when they were called back to their parents’ side. Cersei told the two nannies to go ahead and have fun. Loras seized the opportunity to ask if he could take Sansa for a quick drive through town. “Just don’t take the entire afternoon,” they were told. Soon Loras had the keys to Margaery’s car.

“Have you been to Lannisport before?” Loras asked her.

“First time. You?”

“It’s my first too.” Loras looked out the window. “In some ways it reminds me of Highgarden, where I’m from, but it’s so quiet. And dreary, wouldn’t you say?”

Sansa smiled. “I grew up in Winterfell. I quite like dreary although I do understand what you mean by Lannisport being quiet.”

“I’ve never been to Winterfell.”

“It’s not the most exciting place. But it is very beautiful in the winter. I remember our old house had this huge garden and it would be crammed with winter roses come the season. It’s a close community. We knew everyone and were friends.”

“You grew up in Winterfell but. . .”

“My father was offered a position as headmaster at Vale Prep. That’s when we moved. I was twelve.”

Loras’ face lit up. “You went to Vale Prep? I went there too. But I was way ahead of you. The headmaster during my time was some guy named Royce. Old, really old fellow.”

“My father was headmaster after him.”

“Vale Prep’s a long way from Westeros.”

“College. King’s Landing University.”

“I went to Braavos.”

“Hey, Brienne also went to Braavos. I saw a photo of her with the volleyball team.”

“She was senior when I was a freshman. I think she quit the year before that. Knee injury. They recruited her from Tarth. She was a great loss to the team.” 

Sansa looked at her lap. “What do you think will happen when she comes back?”

“Damned if I know. I try to stay out of my employers’ personal lives. You should too.”

“I’m not meddling.”

“I didn’t say you were but you can’t let whatever’s happening them affect you. You’re there for the children, so just be there for them.”

“I suppose the Baratheons never fight.”

“Can’t say I’ve seen them disagree. Unless you count Cersei frowning at Robert for giving Joffrey chocolate before dinner.” Loras shrugged. “That’s about it.”

“I’ve never seen Jaime and Brienne like this before.”

“Sansa, I told you.”

“I can’t be concerned?”

“Of course you can. But trust me, just turn a blind eye.”

“Easy for you to say. Your employers are so sickeningly sweet it’s a wonder they’re not crawling with ants.”

Loras laughed and Sansa stared at him. “What?”

“When I first saw you, I thought you looked a storybook princess. You look like one. But man, that’s a snarky thing you just said. I didn’t think you’re capable.”

“I choose to be nice.”

“All the time?”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

“See? There you go!”

Sansa found herself smiling. “Fine.”

A companionable silence fell between them. Sansa leaned back, closed her eyes.

“Getting sleepy on me, Sansa?”

“Are we really just going for a drive?”

 

“Why? Where do you want us to stop?”

Sansa pointed at the first thing she saw. “There.”

“We came all the way to Lannisport to visit a convenience store?” 

“I figured we can have some chips and soda and talk in the car. I don’t know about you but junk food is apparently not allowed in Casterly Rock. Tyrion told me. He also gave me money to bring him back a lot.”

“Good thing you told me,” Loras said, turning the car. “We’re doing a raid.” 

While Loras and Sansa were parking at the other end of the parking lot of Port Stop & Go, Renly, who was driving now, was listening to Brienne’s directions. She sat at the back with Ty on her lap. Jon was in the passenger seat now. 

They had to convince her to buy a pregnancy test and find out if she’s pregnant. Renly figured the sooner she was sure, the better she could confront Jaime. He thought it a good thing Brienne suggested they stay away from Casterly Rock for a good part of the day. He had wanted to go into their bedroom last night but knew Brienne wouldn’t appreciate it and it was a private. . .incident between a husband and his wife. Unless Brienne told him to intervene, Renly forced himself to the sidelines. He couldn’t look at Jaime now without wanting to break something. 

“There,” Brienne pointed at Port Stop & Go. 

Renly turned the SUV and pulled up close to the store. He switched the car off.

Suddenly, Ty started to cry, burying his face in her chest. “Momma. Momma.”

“He’s hungry,” Brienne said, rubbing his back. “Jon, there’s a bottle of powder formula and water in my bag. The formula’s a blue bottle and the water yellow. Would you mind mixing them?”

“No problem,” Jon said, reaching for the bag at his feet.

Renly, looking at Brienne through the rearview mirror, said, “Must be a sign.”

“Oh, shut up, Renly.” But Brienne’s voice wasn’t harsh. She was looking at Drew, who was thankfully fast asleep.

While Jon took the bottles out of the bag, Renly continued, “Do you know? Like, if you’re pregnant, what are you going to do?”

“I’m still going to talk to Jaime. That is, if I can without shouting at him.” 

As Jon poured water onto the powder formula, he asked, “Do you want the baby?”

Brienne’s blue eyes dropped to her lap. It lasted a moment but Jon saw her reaction.

“Tarth,” he said softly.

She kissed Ty, whose crying had softened to whimpers. “It’s too soon. But if I am what am I going to do? I’m not going to get rid of it. Yes, I just answered the question you two are too chicken to ask. I will never intentionally harm any child of mine, no matter how. . .difficult it is for me to accept it right now.” 

“We never thought for one second—“

Renly stared at the wheel. “I did.”

“Fuck you, Renly,” Jon and Brienne told him and he jerked as if hit.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Jon handed the bottle to Brienne. She leaned back on the seat and gently tipped it towards Drew’s mouth. Soon, the baby’s hungry suckling sounds filled the car.

“I’m a terrible person,” Brienne said with a sigh, watching her son feed.

“Where did that come from?” Jon asked.

“Shouldn’t every child be a blessing? Wanted?”

“Okay, I can’t take this anymore.” Renly suddenly announced. “You’re going to pee on a stick and we’ll find out once and for all if you’re pregnant. I’m sorry, Brienne, I love you, but I can’t. . .I can’t bear to hear you like this. Hate me but this is not you. The Brienne I know wouldn’t feel so defeated, so self-loathing. You’re not a terrible person for not having instant love for your child. If things were easier, if life was perfect, then yes, you love him or her immediately. But that’s not the case and you’re going to have to stop beating yourself up over it. Seven hells, we’re not even sure if there’s a child yet.”

He took a deep gulp of air then began to slide out of the car. As he was doing so, somebody called out to him.

“Ser Renly? Is that you? It’s me, Ham!”

Ham, Brienne and Jon found out when the turned to look, was a skinny, short man who seemed to be swaying on his feet as he spoke and grinned at Renly. His clothes looked ragged and crumpled, as if he’d slept in them for days. Renly had shut the door, concealing the occupants of the car. But it was clear he was uneasy. Then Ham began to leave, still shaking on his feet.   
As soon as he was far away, Renly signalled Jon to lower the window. He did.

“He’s going to the store. He knows me.”

“Who’s he?” Brienne wanted to know.

“Tywin’s former chauffeur. Was caught skimming off the funds for car maintenance and Tywin not only fired him, he made it impossible for the man to have decent work ever again. I just realized what a small town Lannisport is. I don’t know everyone but I’m pretty sure someone in the store will recognize me and know my connection to the Lannisters.”

“Fine,” Brienne said. She still held Drew to her chest. “I’ll go in and buy the danged test.”

“All the more you shouldn’t. You think nobody here knows you’re married to Jaime?”

Jon looked confused. “Can I just say I don’t understand what’s going on and are you two actually famous? The fuck?”

Renly ignored him. Looking at Brienne, he said, “What do you think will happen if I walk in there and buy a pregnancy test? Or if you walk in there and get the test? The Lannisters own this town, Brienne. How soon do you think those back at Casterly Rock will find out about your interesting purchase? My guess is we’ll be summoned home. Gods, I hate it here.”

“I’ll go,” Jon’s voice piped up. “Lannisport knows nothing of me.”

He leaped out of the car with a smile on his face. Before leaving his friends, he turned to them with a salute and marched towards the convenience store, his chest high, his grin sure and arrogant. The wind ruffled his hair.

The double glass doors parted automatically as soon he stepped close to it. Jon kept his expression slightly bored yet friendly as he strolled in, projecting the image of a carefree young man. 

“Excuse me,” he said, approaching the sullen-faced girl behind the counter. He smiled at her and she stared back at him. “Ah, can you tell me where the pregnancy tests are? My wife thinks she’s enceinte.”

“Huh?”

Too fancy a word, he thought but his smile didn’t falter. “Pregnant.”

“Aisle seven.”

Jon turned and collided right into a warm, soft figure. Quickly, his arms went around the feminine form, keeping her from falling. A scent that was the combination of candies and sunlight wafted through his nose and he found himself resisting the temptation to pull the woman closer and smell her. Enough sense kicked in for him to pull away far enough so he was still holding her but could look at her.

And thought he could look at her forever.

Her hair was a thick, auburn mane that wrapped her slender, ivory shoulders in the gentlest embrace. Dark blue eyes ringed with eyelashes looked at him, curiously, yet there was a kindness in them, a gentleness he had not seen for a long time. Her nose was small and below it, a pair of pink lips that looked pillow-soft, and would probably be softer after a passionate kiss.   
She was wearing a yellow sweater and white pants, with bright pink Mary Janes. Beautiful women were always ending up in his arms, with almost no effort on his part but no one was this beautiful. No one came close. Those women were sure, their want clear and unabashed. There was strength in her but a shyness too, an apprehension that he would like to find out about so he could understand. He could see himself spending the rest of his days knowing and understanding her. 

“Um, sir, you’re planning on letting me go at some point, right?” She asked him.

For the first time in his life, Jon blushed. He dropped his arms back to his sides. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“Not your fault,” she tried to walk around him but Jon instinctively stepped in front of her. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Is there a problem?”

“Sorry,” he said, stepping aside. Was he ever this flustered before a girl? “Um . . .”

“Yes?”

“My name is Jon Snow. May I have yours?”

Her blue eyes twinkled. “I’m Sansa Stark.” 

“Sir,” the cashier clerk’s voice broke in, “I don’t think your wife will appreciate being kept waiting to see if she’s pregnant. Aisle seven.”

And Sansa Stark, who had been looking at him with stars in her eyes, glared at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Then Came You, Renly was overprotective of Brienne. Here, he finds himself frustrated and forced to stand aside but that doesn't stop him for telling his best friend the truth. 
> 
> I'm no expert on mother-child connections, once again, having only asked around through friends who were brave enough to admit that they struggled loving and connecting with their babies at first. That's one of the things that inspired this story because too many women are punishing themselves for it and isn't that sad? If we can try to be a bit more understanding and realize it's not as easy, maybe they'll be more forgiving to themselves. It's through the character of Renly that this is done. 
> 
> Thank you! More chapters await.


	11. Smash and Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne finally talk.

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing and know nothing. 

He was going to wake up hating the world even more tomorrow, Jaime thought as he threw his arm down too soon, making his service weak, but it mattered little. He barely felt the cramps at the back of his legs, the stiffness that had begun to settle on his shoulder, the pain his back as it arched when he got into position again to serve. This time, his service was better but far, very far from perfect.

After storming away from the too-crowed patio earlier in the day, Jaime went to the gym. He dressed in an old t-shirt that smelled faintly of vanilla and track pants. As soon as he was done, he took out his frustration on the punching bag. He had no idea how long he pounded it with his fists. When he sank against it, breathing hard, his hands and arms were screaming in pain. When he unrolled the protective bandages the skin of his knuckles were torn and bloody. 

He was haunted by their fight, the fight he started, last night. He remembered being teasing and playful with his wife one minute and then going after her like an enraged bull. He didn’t care that they’d been overheard and everyone was well aware of what he said. He was horrified and angry at himself at the things he said to Brienne. Brienne, his wife, the mother of his children. Brienne, the blue light of his world. 

He was so. . .angry that she lied to him. And she had almost done it perfectly if not for the guilty flush on her face and how she couldn’t look at him. It hurt that she lied, that she couldn’t be honest but gods, he deserved a lot more than seven hells for attacking her and being so hateful to her.

Last night, he thought it a good thing that Cersei took Brienne away to talk to her. It gave him time to think, reflect on the wrong he’d done. He wore the carpet thin with his endless, tensed pacing, looking at the door, at one point even biting at his thumbnail, a habit Tywin told him was disgusting and he’d shaken off beginning at ten years old. 

He wanted to go to Brienne last night, to find her and tell her he was sorry. If she demanded he get down on his knees he would. If she demanded blood he’d drain himself dry. He was undeserving of forgiveness, of his wife, but he vowed, as he finally sat on the bed, exhausted, that he’d make things right. 

Casterly Rock always had a way of drawing out the worst in him.

Yet, he knew, he couldn’t blame his behaviour on the place. He knew better than that.

Despite the pain in his hands, Jaime got rid of his sweaty clothing and slipped on another t-shirt and another pair of track pants. No one wanted him around and that was a good thing. He was terrified that Brienne had actually left him, especially when the lunch hour rolled and there was no word from her. If not for Tywin and Tyrion telling him early this morning where she’d gone, Jaime knew Lannisport would be torn apart as he sought to find her and bring her back.

Still, there was this thought, a dagger repeatedly stabbing him: She has every right to leave me and never see me again.  
He tried calling her but it all went straight to voice mail. Finally, he decided to just wait for her. If Brienne was out and incommunicado, she didn’t want to have anything to do with him. As she should. Jaime didn’t want to be around himself either but he was bound to his body. It just about killed him, that she was out there because she couldn’t stand him but if he let her be then she would come back to him. Gods, what he would give to have her back and looking at him with those sapphire eyes. 

She was only a few hours gone. A few hours gone with their children. Jaime felt like a raw, open wound. 

Dressed in fresh workout clothes, he proceeded to the tennis courts. There, he loaded the ball machine and got his racket. At least he’ll only be murdering little balls. 

The sun was out when he went there and it had begun to retreat behind the clouds before it completely dropped in the horizon, leaving darkness. The lights automatically came on and Jaime staggered in surprise at first. 

Suddenly, he felt the heat in his body. His t-shirt and pants clung. He sighed and pulled the t-shirt off, tossing it to the benches. Then he resumed his rampage against little yellow balls.

He was walloping the ball, ignoring form and grace as he was coached in his teens, when the faintest traces of vanilla drifted through his nose. Shocked, he turned and saw her walking towards the courts, a beacon cutting through the night.

A ball cracked on the back of his head and he groaned, rubbing the spot. He hurried to turn off the machine, still rubbing the sore spot where a bump the size of a dragon’s egg was growing. 

Brienne, clad in what he recognized was one of his blue hoodies, a black, v-necked t-shirt, jeans and sneakers, walked with her hands pushed deep in the pockets. She looked at him, the fluorescent lights rendering her straw-blond cropped hair pale, almost as white as snow. Her eyes were the darkest sapphires. She licked her lips and he saw them cracked.

It was war keeping himself right where he was.

Brienne sat on of the benches. The used t-shirt was right next to her.

“I knew you were here,” she told him, “but I couldn’t go to you as soon as I returned because I don’t know what to say.”

Jaime continued to hold the tennis racket, hanging from his right side. “I will listen,” he told her, softly.

She looked at him. Jaime felt her sizing him up and finding him lacking. He wanted the ground to eat him and drag him down to seven hells. It was the better option than suffering her disappointment. 

“You hurt me. Your words. . .I never imagined that you would talk to me that way ever. When I fell in love with you, those words never crossed my mind, nor the way you looked at me last night. You were so angry, Jaime. Yes, I lied. I should have told you why I didn’t want sex last night but it’s difficult for me—“

“Why? We share everything,” he couldn’t resist cutting in.

Her voice was sharp. “I thought you will listen.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do we share everything, Jaime? We must. I don’t know anymore. Do you. . .do you see me?”

He looked puzzled. “Of course I do. You’re sitting six feet away from me. You’re wearing one of my sweaters. Your lips are cracked from the cold.”

“But you don’t look at me.”

“I don’t think I could have described you if I didn’t.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“Make me understand. Please, Brienne. You’ve no idea what I’ve been through.”

Her eyes were blue fire. “What about me? I was afraid last night, Jaime. I never thought I’d feel that with you. I was afraid and so angry I wanted to hurt you. That’s why I kept myself away. I wanted to hurt you. I wanted to make you bleed but I knew it wouldn’t be enough for you to know just how much you’ve hurt me. I’m still discovering.”

A sword to the heart would be merciful. To get shot with arrows was merciful. To be chained and burned by the dragon was kindness. Jaime had no idea how he was going to survive the next ten minutes knowing Brienne was still discovering the extent of the pain he’d inflicted on her.

“How can you say those things to me, Jaime? I’m your wife. I love you. At least, I thought—“  
He froze. “What do you mean?”

Brienne looked to be fighting her own war. Then she said, “I love you but I don’t know if I can be with someone who doesn’t look at me.”

“What do you mean I don’t look at you? Gods, Brienne, you have to make it clear! I want to understand. I want to know. Please. Please, Brienne.”

Her name came out choked from his lips.

“When was the last time you looked at me and saw the person I’ve become? I’m not the same person I was when we first met. You give me kisses, you make love to me but it’s only now I’ve realized that you haven’t really looked at me for a long time. If you have, I don’t think you’d be so angry when I lied. I apologize for lying. I don’t like doing it. But just because I made a little white lie doesn’t mean you can . . .treat me like a whore, Jaime.”

“What? I treat you like what?” Jaime almost fell to the ground in shock. 

“You don’t look at me.” Brienne repeated. “When you kiss me, it’s to own me. I may carry your name but I belong to myself, Jaime. I’m not yours.”

“I never. . .why. . .you could have told me.”

“I’m telling you now. Jaime, do you know me? Do you still want to get to know me?”

He looked at her right in the eye. Tears hung at the corners of his. “All the time. I want to know everything.”

“I don’t feel it. You never made a move in that direction. Not for a long time.”

“I know now. Let me.”

She looked down at her hands.

“Brienne?” He breathed her name, his voice small.

“I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?”

She looked up. “I don’t know if I can. . .still be with you, Jaime.”

His heart dropped to the ground. “What are you talking about? You just told me you love me. Twice!”

“I will love you forever. You are the father of my children. But I can’t be with someone who doesn’t see me. I’m not a body for the showcase of your marks, Jaime.”

“When have I marked you?”

“Every time you kiss me so hard my lips are sore for days. Every time you touch me and hold me so tightly I have bruises. When you’re in me. When you’re in me so deeply that all I can do is feel losing myself. How long before I can no longer see me, Jaime? What kind of woman would I be? I’d be a shell.”

“Brienne, know that it’s never my intention to hurt you. I didn’t know. I kiss you like that because I want you so much. I touch and hold you like that because I can’t let go. I don’t want to let you go.”

“But I am, Jaime.”

“Don’t, Brienne. Please.”

“I’m not somebody to fuck. I’m not someone to be leashed to your side,” Brienne’s voice broke and she hiccupped. “I’m not someone who’s only for making babies with.”

“You’re not. Gods, Brienne, I swear to you, you’re not.”

“Then why is it when we. . .when you have me you hardly look at me now? All you want to do is to go in, as deeply as possible. That’s why I feel like a whore, Jaime. You want me so much but what of me exactly do you want? And is it me you want? How when you haven’t looked at me lately?”

He didn’t know what to say. The tennis racket fell from his hand and fell on the ground with a loud thump, like a body falling. Jaime felt as if they’d just crushed someone to the ground. A fragile thing of life had just been put to end. By their hand.

“Brienne, I beg you, please. Think of this. Think of our children. Are we going to. . .are you. . .” Jaime couldn’ say the word. It was too horrible and powerful.

“I think we need time apart,” Brienne’s voice fell. “I think if we really want this marriage to work we’re going to have to get to know each other again.”

“Done.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Don’t make it any more difficult.”

“You think that’s what I want?”

“I know four days ago you wouldn’t be saying that.” 

“I change every day, Jaime. People do. But I’m still me. I just don’t know if you’ve really looked or would still want to look at me years and years from now.”

She stood up, slowly, as if she had just exerted herself beyond her physical capabilities. “Jaime, I know it’s your birthday. I’m so sorry for doing this. I will still sleep in our room. There’s going to be talk if I move out. But when we return to Westeros I will—“

“No. Brienne, I beg you.” She was leaving him?

“I must. If you want us to work, Jaime, I must.”

He went to her until they were practically nose-to-nose. The warmth of her body radiated to him and shirtless, Jaime was suddenly reminded of the cold. He wanted her skin, he wanted her warmth. He wanted her arms. For the first time since meeting her, Jaime wasn’t sure if she’d welcome his touch.

Her answer came a few seconds later.

“I will sleep with you until we leave but you can’t, I implore you, you can’t touch me. I’m . . .I hate you so much now. I can’t stand your hands on me. Please respect that.”

“I can’t touch you,” Jaime wanted to weep. “You sure know how to punish me, wife.”  
“I did not reach this decision lightly.”

 

“I know you didn’t. But to taunt me like that?”

“I can move to another room.”

“No. You’re settled there and the children. . .” Jaime knew he was going to regret this but he continued, “Brienne, if you’re not going to let me touch at least let me have the assurance you’ll be beside me for the next few days. 

“Didn’t I just say that? I’ll sleep with you but I’m still angry, Jaime. I don’t know when it will dissipate. ”

And then she turned to walk away. Suddenly, all the light dimmed and flickered before plunging Jaime into darkness. 

He sank to the ground. All the light in the world was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will happen now?


	12. Almost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei and Tyrion talk.  
> One of the Lannister twins learns something, thanks to Jon.

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing and know nothing.

 

Everything was different.  
This was the thought running through Tyrion’s mind as he joined Joffrey and Lyra for a game of bubbles in the afternoon. Children liked sticky, wet things but it rang true for adults too, as shown when Tyrion added more soap to the water for endless bubble fun, much to the delight of the children.

“Uncle Tyrion, it’s coming at you!” Joffrey called out, blowing a series of little bubbles towards him. Tyrion pretended to duck and run for cover behind the gazebo. Lyra shrieked with laughter and exclaimed, “No! I’m going to save you, Uncle Tyrion! Wait for me!”  
Tyrion laughed as Lyra suddenly threw her arms around him, giggling. Joffrey, running hard behind her, said, “I’m coming at you!” And started blowing more bubbles in their direction.

“Run, Lyra, run!” Tyrion shouted, taking her hand and willing his short legs to run fast but not so that Joffrey would be left far behind.

He could spend the whole afternoon with the children, laughing as they played with his hair and got grass on it when they suddenly wrestled him to the ground. He was no longer young, unfortunately, and half an hour later, felt his limbs stiff and sore. He promised the children there will be more bubbles with him tomorrow before he limped his way back into the house. 

Cersei was coming from the kitchen with a tray of fresh, cold milk and chocolate cookies when he slipped past the doors. She chuckled upon seeing her brother’s state with grass in his hair and grass stains on his clothes. “You let the children get you? I expected better from you, brother.”

“You try playing with them. Now be a good sister and let me have a cookie.” Tyrion said, holding out his hand toward the tray. Cersei bent her knees to let him snatch two cookies.

“Will you join me? Lollys and Bronn are taking a walk. Margaery’s gone for a swim. My husband is snoring in our bed. I think the painkillers finally got to him,”Cersei said as she walked out and set the tray on the glass table. “Children, snacks!” she yelled at them.

“Later, Mom!” Joffrey called out.

“Can you stand the sight of your brother dirty and smelling of mud?” Tyrion asked, pushing himself up on a chair next to her.

“I think I owe you a debt considering I spent half my childhood stinking of horse manure,” Cersei said, smiling at him. She poured them a glass of milk each and helped herself to a cookie.

“Where’s father?” Tyrion asked, leaning back.

“Working, what else. He demands us to spend a long weekend here and he hardly steps out of that miserable chamber.” 

“If Brienne were here, he’d be out more,” Tyrion said. “Honestly, it’s a relief he’d rather lock himself up in there. Do you really want another reminder about our Lannister duty, that we should stop wasting our time on endeavours that do not befit our famous name? Me, an educator, you a doctor and Jaime an art director? Lannisters who work for money. Father’s greatest embarrassment.” He took a sip of the milk. “Kind of makes you want to not have children, if you will permit me to say, Cersei. Can you imagine how he’d be when Ty and Drew are older? You think because Joffrey’s a Baratheon he won’t get roped in too?”

Cersei put her legs up on the chair. Despite the cool weather, she wore only a long-sleeved red t-shirt and uncuffed denim shorts that had seen better days. She watched the children.

“You don’t think of having children?” She asked him.

“Look at me, Cersei. Should I even think of having children?”

Her green eyes widened. “Why on earth are you asking me that question?”

Tyrion met her emerald stare with his mismatched eyes. “Are you blind, Cersei? I’m a dwarf. I’ve been the object of ridicule and disdain my whole life. I still am. You think I want a child to know how that is?”

“Maybe you’re the one who should have his eyes checked, Tyrion. So what of your condition—“

“My condition. How tactful of you.”

“So what,” Cersei pushed on, “if you’re a dwarf. Did that stop you from excellence? Oh, I know what people say about you, brother. But they have never bothered me. It bothers me that people are such idiots for not seeing past but I’m a lioness, don’t you forget. I protect and fight for what’s mine. That includes you, brother.”

“I don’t need that.”

“You sure don’t. But don’t rob me of the pleasure.” Cersei bit her cookie and chewed. Then, “Are you telling me that’s what’s stopped you from thinking of having children? Because you worry it might take after you?”

“Get my condition,” Tyrion said, biting hard on the last word.

“You can’t see past your appearance either. I should smack you on the head.”

“Don’t sugarcoat, Cersei.”

“You’re smart. You’re successful. You’re respected. People look up to you. People actually want to listen to you. You’re patient and fun with children. You were tough with me growing up but you were there when I was a weak and you’re always there for me. You’ve taught me over and over about my value, how only I can define it and that I’m a lot more worth than Tywin and the world give me credit. Margaery sees that about you. We all do. It’s really selfish of you, Tyrion, selfish and pathetic, to not want children just because you think they’ll look like you. Haven’t you proven looks don’t matter? Or that how you were born should not be a hindrance?”

“You don’t know the hurt I’ve had.”

“And I never will. But you survived. Do you think children so weak that they’ll break?” 

“The world breaks us, Cersei.”

“And the people who love you help stitch you back together.”

“I can’t have the world destroying my children.”

“It will happen but you have to believe it won’t end them. I didn’t know you’re of so little faith, my brother. You who made your name in a field that’s rooted in speculation and hypotheses and experiment. I can’t believe you’ve more faith in solutions and formulas than something you yourself created.”

“Okay, why do I have a feeling this isn’t just about me?”

Cersei flushed pink. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t think I haven’t seen, Cersei. You smile and laugh but you also look like you’re about to cry any second. And you can’t stop looking at Joffrey and you’re close to adopting Lyra. Her own mother had to beg her to come back to her, didn’t you see earlier?”

“I like children. So what if I’m like that with my son? He’s my son. And Lyra’s a treasure.”

“Who isn’t yours.”

“Of course she isn’t mine.”

“I know you’re vicious, sister, but you’ve never torn apart something with such glee.”

“I did not tear you apart.”

“I’m cut to the bone.”

“Don’t be dramatic. Why are Lannister men so fucking dramatic?”

“I know something’s going on,” Tyrion insisted. “And you’re taking it out on me. Just when I was thinking this might be the best time I’ve ever had here you’re wrecking the moment.” 

Cersei jerked to her feet and stood up as if to leave. But she only walked to the front of the table. She put her arms around her as she continued watching the children.

“I’m here for you, Cersei. Whatever it is.”

“You shouldn’t be so harsh to yourself, Tyrion.”

“I thought we were talking about you.”

“Only you thought that. I’m still talking about you.”

“I vote we talk about you.”

“It will end in a draw. Don’t forget I’m bigger than you. I can throttle you easily.”

“That you could but I can rip that pretty hair of yours off your scalp. Cersei Please. Tell me.”

She shook her head.

“Why?” He asked.

“Because it isn’t mine to tell,” Cersei replied, a bit too softly that Tyrion had to strain to hear. 

“What do you mean?”

She turned to look at him. “All I can say is you should re-think things, Tyrion. You shouldn’t close yourself up. Don’t deprive yourself of something wonderful just because you’re afraid.”

Then she looked back at the children. Tyrion was mulling over her words when he heard a ruckus from inside the house. He though he heard Brienne’s voice and Pod’s but they quickly disappeared. Then two male voices, both raised and loud, started approaching them. Cersei, taken from her thoughts whirled around and grinned. 

“Well, hello there, Jon Snow,” she said.

Renly and Jon were walking slowly because Drew and Ty were walking with them, holding their hand. Tyrion pulled his face in a grotesque mask and Ty squealed, tearing his hands away from Jon as he said, “Turn! Turn! Turn!”

Jon Snow, who looked more sullen than ever, said, “Turn?”

“He can’t say Tyrion properly yet,” Tyrion explained. 

“Brienne said we should turn over the twins to the nanny,” Jon scratched his head. “I don’t think she’s mentioned the name. Did she?” He asked Renly.

“It’s Sansa. Yeah, we’re tired. We’ve been babysitting all day. Where is she?”

“Sansa?” Jon suddenly demanded. He looked at Cersei, Tyrion then Renly. “Sansa Stark?”

“Yes, it’s Sansa Stark. Is there a problem?” Cersei asked as Drew shuffled away from Renly and suddenly grabbed her legs. Her irritation vanished as she pulled her nephew up in her arms. 

But Jon was already walking away, in thundering steps back to the house. All they heard was an impassioned, angry, “Fuck! Fuck the Seven!” 

Cersei sighed, looking annoyed again. “Something has to be done with the language spoken around children.”

Sure enough, Drew laughed and said, “Fuck!”

“Fucked in the ass, for sure,” Tyrion declared. 

“Tyrion!” Renly and Cersei yelled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The previous chapters were so heavy that this one needed to end on that note.


	13. The Lioness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne vs. Tywin

Some time before Brienne sought Jaime at the tennis court, she found herself staring at the massive, dark wooden double doors in that area of Casterly Rock that was more silent than the crypt. Its color was between dark wooden brown and red, the effect a combination of dark rust or dried blood. Its doorknobs were lion’s heads, gold and so shiny she was hesitant to touch it.  
She was surrounded by antique armors the Lannisters had worn through the centures. Blood-red and sun-gold dominated the design, with a lot of black or dark slate gray. She never liked this part of the house. Something about those armors positioned to stand as if alive with nothing but air behind the headgear drew a shiver down her spine and chilled her to the bone. In glass cases were weapons, the most prominent display being their own Valyrian steel, Brightroar. Thought to be lost, it was recovered early in the twentieth century and returned to its rightful place to Casterly Rock. Guns were on display too, locked in a glass-fronted wooden cabinet. They were antique, as can be seen by their size and design. That didn’t make them any less dangerous, in Brienne’s opinion.

This wasn’t an area for children at all, and even most adults were uncomfortable and avoided passing this hallway if they could. During one of Brienne’s early visit, Cersei shared that she had nightmares about those men in armor as the empty shells creeped her out too. Even Jaime didn’t like this part of the house, preferring the old armory where more weapons were on display but designed in such a way that you were awed rather than terrified. Only Tyrion seemed comfortable, and was known to whistle and hum when he passed here.

Jaime wasn’t going to like at all what she was about to do but she had little choice. Tywin Lannister had a way of finding things out that made you look over your shoulder and speak in hushed voices. He would soon know about their situation. Brienne wasn’t looking forward to Tywin admonishing her husband over it. Her anger had yet to end up in embers but she loved her husband and would protect him even from his own father. Even when his own father was within reason to make his eardrums bleed. This was a private affair between them and no matter how loudly Tywin roared, he was going to have to accept that he was to never intervene or argue or make Jaime feel even more terrible for failing his wife. 

He didn’t fail her. But gods, he disappointed her and it was a wound whose blood flow couldn’t be staunched.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked.

“Enter,” came Tywin’s coolly-enunciated voice.

Brienne opened the door. Tywin was sitting behind his desk. Rich blood-red and gold tapestries adorned his office. His laptop was open before him, its bright screen the only light in the dark room. Folders and papers were neatly fanned out before him.

“Brienne,” he sounded pleased. “You’re back.”

She nodded. “May I sit down?”

“Please,” he gestured at one of the chairs.

Brienne sat down. Tywin’s office made her feel like a child, and if she were shorter she’d swing her legs while she racked her brains for the best way to deliver the news.

“How are you feeling? Is there anything you’d like?” He asked, sitting back on his reclining chair.

“Thank you, but I’m fine. I don’t need anything right now.”

They looked at each other. Tywin and Jaime looked so much alike but they differed in the eyes and in their manner of speaking. Something about Tywin’s voice and how he spaced his words made you step carefully, as if the ground were riddled with landmines. Jaime often sounded like he was on the verge of laughter although it could be said that his wit and banter could be as sharp as Tywin’s dry comments.

“Have you put my son in his place?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”  
“Because I want to talk to you first. Because things will happen that will not be pleasant for Jaime and me and I don’t want you   
making him feel worse about it.”

“You think to protect my son from me?”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “With the way you are, can you blame me?”

Tywin’s thick eyebrows rose. “Pardon me?”

“Your children have been quite generous in sharing anecdotes about your reign of terror over them. I know that you tied Jaime to his desk to force him to learn how to read correctly. You yelled at Cersei for being less than half a Lannister when she couldn’t get herself back on the horse. You told Tyrion the only way people would respect him is if he were the best, not simply better. That if he wasn’t the best all they’ll see is a deformed dwarf.” Brienne shook her head and met Tywin’s outraged green eyes. “That’s not even half of it.”

“So you’ve come here to warn me?” Tywin sounded bland.

“Of course not. You think me an idiot?”

He smiled. “I think you’re every inch a Lannister.”

“Gods, how could your children stand you saying statements like that? I’ve known you for less than ten years and you—you—when you say those things they drive me up the wall.” Irritation was a red flush on Brienne’s face.

“But I’m head of the family, Brienne. If I coddled my children, cooed, sugarcoated everything, you think any of them will be what they are? You think Jaime will be the man you’re married to?”

“Alright, I’m not here to ask parenting advice from you. I’m here to tell you to lay off Jaime.”

“Lay off Jaime?”

“Stay out of whatever’s happening between us. Do not meddle. Do not make him feel more shitty than he will feel. Consider what I’m doing a pre-emptive strike. I’m warning you but also informing you.”

“And what exactly do you intend to do?”

“Jaime and I need space.” When Tywin didn’t react, she added, “From each other.”

“What do you mean by this?”

“It means I will be telling him that we will be living separate lives for a while.”

“Separate lives?” Tywin’s suddenly booming voice could shake the walls, Brienne swore. “Are you leaving my son, Brienne?”  
“No. I love him. But he’s going to have to learn things. I can’t be with someone who won’t recognize the person I am. If he doesn’t, much as I don’t want to, much as I love him, I’m going to have to save myself. And our children.”

“You were right to tell me in advance, Brienne,” Tywin’s voice was lower in its register.

“And don’t you dare try to change my mind or interfere in any way that would stop us.” Brienne’s eyes were hard, brilliant sapphires. “We have things to work out, Jaime and I. You’re going to have to let us be and accept whatever outcome it may have.”  
“Not if it hurts my son,” Tywin said slowly.

“My goal is not to hurt. Never. Despite what Jaime did. Yes, I want him to know the extent of the hurt he’s done to me but I don’t want to. Enough’s happened. I have to think about our sons.”

“You can’t take away his sons from him, Brienne. You think he’ll let you walk away? And take the boys?”

“I’m not walking away from Jaime. But in order for our marriage to continue he will have to let me go. At least for a while.”  
“And Drew and Ty?”

Brienne looked shocked. “I will never deprive them of their father. I may be without mercy now, Tywin, but I’m not heartless. I am not cruel.”

“Somehow I’m finding that very hard to believe.”  
“I guess it takes one to know one,” she muttered. “I’m sorry. That was undeserved. And wrong.”

Tywin looked at her. Despite the strength stamped clearly on every inch of her body, he thought she looked like a lost child.   
“Alright, Brienne. You have my word. I will not interfere nor meddle nor do anything to worsen the situation. I swear to you. But you have to swear to me that my son will not suffer any more than he should. He’s an impossible boy but he is my son and he is your husband, the father of your children, my grandchildren. He is the man you chose for yourself. You tell me you love him. I hope you don’t forget that.”

“I will not. I swear it, Tywin. Jaime will not suffer any more than he should.” 

 

Brienne wanted to run.

She wanted her legs to take her away, she wanted to believe if she ran away and pumped her arms so hard she will fly. Yet all she could do was walk as fast as she could from the tennis court, lest Jaime saw the tears falling in thick streaks down her cheeks. She collapsed against a tree, resting her forehead on the rough bark, cutting the skin of her hands with its abrasive surface.   
What she would give for skin, Jaime’s skin, his lips moving against her hair, his arms tight around her.

“No,” she whispered, beating her fist against the tree.

She wondered how she did it, being able to say all that had to be said in exactly the way she wanted. It had taken all her resolve, every ounce of discipline she could summon from deep within, to not go to Jaime when the scent of his sweat made her knees weak, that the sweat gleaming on his defined chest and muscled arms made her want to push him to the ground and maul him with kisses and caresses. To be away from him—her body screamed against it, her heart had shattered when she told him he couldn’t touch her, but her mind was strong, screaming louder, reminding her of what he did, of the anger she was entitled. It kept her on the bench, it locked her hands to her sides. In the end it was force that propelled her towards what she hoped to accomplish and she did. One could even say she aced it until she saw it.

The light that went out of his eyes to be replaced by shadows and tears he fought so hard to remain unshed. The pain tensing his body as if he was preparing to be whipped. Brienne had been tempted to stop, then. She felt the words desperate to be released from her throat, the words that said this was madness and they could forget it. She could move past it. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t forgive him yet, and he hadn’t asked. Why didn’t he? That stopped her from doing what her heart commanded her. He had not asked for her forgiveness. 

She couldn’t just let this pass and continue. How was she to continue knowing how little he saw her, knew her? When would she cease to know herself? How could she look at herself in the mirror should that day come?

Brienne sank to her knees, her back against the tree. 

The night was still except for the muffled sobbing of what seemed a wounded animal ,somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has it only been one day since they arrived in Casterly Rock?


	14. Special Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Craziness, bathrooms, and an almost-encounter.

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing and know nothing. 

As Jaime was blinking back the tears streaming down his face and Brienne was shuffling and tripping her way back to the mansion with her head down and her arms hugged tight around her, and Renly and Cersei were stag and lion united in lecturing Tyrion about his language around children, which now included Joffrey, Lyra and Ty yelling, “Fuck!” at the top of their lungs to the horror of the adults around them, and Jon had gone stormed off somewhere, Margaery was in the room she shared with Tyrion, wringing her hands as she paced near the door. Every few seconds or so she’d pressed her ear there or peek, her head slipping out before she retreated and shut it closed quietly. 

Since confessing to Cersei and Lollys about her possible pregnancy and how she feared Tyrion might react, Margaery, after giving in to tears, had put on a brave face and soldiered through the day. She sat beside Tyrion at lunch, smiling as he sparred verbally with Bronn, Robert and Tywin, his face tensing whenever Jaime spoke cuttingly and meanly. Cersei and Robert, who sat across from them, clearly held hands under the table. Cersei’s eyes would seek Tyrion’s when Robert strained to be as kind as he could to the crankier than usual Jaime, or she looked at Margaery with concern when she became the target of Jaime’s verbal jousts. Lollys looked uncomfortable and her wine had to be refilled several times throughout the meal. 

Margaery was practiced in the art of looking like she was listening when it truth it was barely half. Yet when Jaime retorted something about size and cocks and how Tyrion needed a lot of practice to “jam it home,” she focused her brown eyes on him, pinning him under a stare that was sweet but actually sharp. Cersei winced, Robert patted her on the shoulder while Tywin glared at Jaime.

“I seem to not have gotten the memo of how conversations are to be conducted here at Casterly Rock from now on,” Margaery said with a pleasantness that dripped with honey. “Tell me, Jaime, after your thorough analysis of penal behaviour and manners are we going to talk about cunts next? Because maybe we can at least raise it to an academic discussion, throw in a little Freud if you will, for that is the only man more curious than you about cocks and cunts. It need not be so crude.”

Jaime’s stare was challenging. “Do you find me crude, Margaery?”

“I find it most interesting you’ve decided lunch was the perfect time to discuss it, that’s all. Mr. Freud would have a lot to say about that if he were here.”

“But he is not,” Tywin said, smoothly cutting in. “You are being vulgar, Jaime.”

“Vulgar, really, Father. You wound me,” Jaime retorted. 

“There are ladies present, brother. The absence of yours doesn’t mean you should inflict your misery on us, us who have somehow managed to convinced our ladies to not leave our side.” He reached for Margaery's hand below the table she squeezed. 

If Jaime had not been forced to excuse himself then and there, lunch would have gone on longer. By the end of it. Margaery was tired. Her cheeks actually hurt from smiling too much and her fingers stiff from having to restrain them from pouring iced tea on Jaime’s head. She wanted to lay in bed with a good book and had hoped Tyrion would join her. His response to her invitation surprised her.

“Go and rest, sweet,” he told her, kissing her hand. “the children seem to have need of me.”

And they did. Joffrey and Lyra had come running to Tyrion as soon as they were done with their lunch. Margaery, who should be disappointed he picked children over her, felt a rush of hope.

As she paced in front of their door again, she heard the muffled trod of footsteps walking past. Margaery threw open the door, her brown hair flying. Podrick, who was about to knock, jumped back. He held a brown package in his hand.

“Sorry, Pod,” Margaery said. She smiled at him. “Do you have it?”

“Yes, Miss Margaery. But shouldn’t I be delivering this to Ms. Lollys?”

“She wants it to be a secret for now,” Margaery replied, snatching it from him. “Did you buy as much as you could?”

“Every brand at the store, miss.”

“Good. Good. Well, then. Thank you, Podrick. I appreciate it. But you will keep quiet about this, won’t you? Lollys will kill me,” Margaery widened her eyes for emphasis and the younger man nodded.

“Of course, Miss Margaery. You have my word. And, uh, please tell her I wish her luck?”

“No problem.” Margaery bid him to leave. 

She watched him climb down the curving grand staircase then tiptoed out of the room. She leaned over the balcony to see him reach the bottom step and proceeded deeper into the house. The coast clear, she went to the room Lollys shared with Bronn. 

As they discussed, she made three knocks timed two seconds apart. The door was opened by Lollys. Her eyes were wide.

“We can’t do it in my bathroom,” she told Margaery. “Bronn, is, ah, he wants us to, you know, take a nap,” she enclosed the phrase in air quotes. “He’s coming here in ten minutes. I certainly don’t want to miss it. And I know for sure I’m not pregnant so I don’t want him finding evidence that isn’t mine.”

“Well, we can’t do it mine. Tyrion can’t know. Yet.” Margaery said.

“Is Jaime back? Or Brienne? Or Cersei?”

“I think that was Robert I heard snoring on my way here.”

“Damn.”

“What is going on with Jaime and Brienne?” Margaery narrowed her eyes. “What did he do this time?”

“Not the time, Margaery. Come on. I’ll be the lookout while you pee on a stick.”

“Fucking huge house and not one common bathroom on this floor,” Margaery complained as they walked. “Why must every room have its own?”

Jaime and Brienne’s room was at the end of the hall. Lollys knocked, called Jaime and Brienne. When no one answered, she listened then began to push the door open.

It wasn’t a room, they discovered, but a suite. A huge, four-poster, king-sized bed dominated the room. Across it was a fireplace and an oversized, plush chair that was designed to curl up in. It was done in navy and cream. It adjoined to another room, which they saw had been assigned to the twins. 

Margaery tested one door and quickly shut it. “Closet.”

Lolly threw open another door and nodded. “In here. Quick.”

She put her hand between Margaery’s narrow shoulders as she said this. “I’ll stay outside the room. I’ll warn you if Jaime or Brienne are coming in and you’re still peeing.”

“Okay.”

Lollys left and Margaery closed the door then stopped, deciding to leave it ajar. She won’t hear Lollys if she closed it, she realized. Then she attacked the package Pod brought her. There had to be at least five different brands of pregnancy tests there. She picked Mommy Or Not. It promised to deliver results in three minutes. She read the instructions and positioned herself over the toilet, raising her skirt. Mid-stream, she put the stick between her thighs. Then she flushed the toilet, wiped herself and set the stick on the dark blue marble tiles that surrounded the oval mouth of the sink. She looked at her watch. Three minutes. “Plus or minus, plus or minus,” she muttered, crossing her fingers. "Plus, plus, plus. . ."

“Brienne!” Lollys was practically shouting. “By the Seven, what happened to you? Did you fall?”

“I will fuck the Seven if I could. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Margaery swore, throwing the stick in the garbage bin and tearing toilet paper off its tube and stuffing the tangled mass over it. When she was done, the garbage bin looked like a melted snow-cone. Still cursing, Margaery clutched the rest of Pod’s purchase to her chest, slinked out of the bathroom and headed for the adjoining room. When the door in the other room began to open, she opened the other door and dove out. 

As Margaery was padding out, Brienne slipped into the room. She must look a sight if Lollys thought she had an accident. Quickly, she started taking off her hoodie. In unzipping it, she discovered the package she’d slipped down there as Renly was guiding car into Casterly Rock.

The twins were not in the room. Probably waylaid by their grandfather, she thought when she went to check on them in the other room. 

Jaime had not yet returned. Good. She couldn’t face him now, not so soon. Brienne undressed and took the package with her to the bathroom.

Her shower was quick and impersonal, soap rubbed harshly that her skin gleamed red and soon began to sting. Brienne also washed her hair, and discovered there were leaves and twigs on it. Where the fuck did that come from? 

Ten minutes later, her hair wet and a towel wrapped around her body, Brienne was staring at the package by the sink. She recalled Renly’s words, how she should not hate herself for not wanting another child now. It was too soon. And she wanted the boys to have the attention they deserved, not divided. Taking a deep breath, she took out Mommy or Not. 

Biting her lip, she read the instructions. Well, there was no way she was waiting until tomorrow morning for the first pee, which according to the box was more reliable for the results rather than pee from the middle of the day. Brienne went to the toilet, put the stick between her legs mid-stream and finished. 

She put the stick on the sink’s dark blue shelf, tapping her foot on the cool tiles. She had left her watch on the dresser, she realized.   
Brienne let herself out of the bathroom just as the door to the room was opening. She froze when she caught sight of Jaime’s rumpled, golden hair. He stopped too, looking at her.

She had no idea how long they stood staring at each other. Her skin felt prickly, as if she was electrically charged. It did not help that Jaime was looking at her with pained hunger. He had put on the t-shirt on the bench but it was mapped with sweat marks. She could still smell his sweat. She licked her lips, wishing she could just go to him and lick his skin. 

He swallowed hard, clearing his throat. “You do know how to torture me, wife.” He looked at the bathroom behind her and resolutely kept his eyes there. “If you’re done, I’d like a shower.”

“Um, just about. Give me a minute.”

She practically zoomed back to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Cursing, she dropped the stick in the garbage bin, pulled toilet paper to make a belt out of, realized it wasn’t enough and stuffed more. It hadn’t overflowed, she thought in relief. It wasn’t obvious. She hid the rest of Mommy Or Not in a cabinet below the sink.

Brienne opened the door and told Jaime, “All yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on! We have to know who's pregnant!   
> Lollys and her "air quotes."   
> Mommy Or Not is purely my invention. Unless it's real then it's only coincidental and not meant to represent the product nor misrepresent it in any way.


	15. Behind Closed Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff, some angst from our favorite couples behind closed doors.

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing and know nothing.

 

An hour before dinner at Casterly Rock, Robert and Cersei were getting ready in their room. Breakfast and lunch were casual, although it was emphasized that flip-flops on men and women were disallowed. For dinner, Tywin was insistent it remain formal. Most of the men grumbled while the women were thrilled at the chance to dress up. 

“Damn the gods,” Robert swore. He was sitting at the foot of the bed. He was dressed for dinner in a light gray suit and a white shirt. He held his striped black and green tie in his hand as he glared at his feet, one clad in expensive Italian leather and the other still bandaged. “Just have my dinner brought up here, Cersei. I can’t have that boy butler carrying me like I’m an invalid.”

Cersei laughed as she emerged from her walk-in closet. Her long hair was swept back in a slick ponytail. She was threading gold hoop earrings through her ears. “My heart, you’re not an invalid. And you’re not carried. You are assisted. I think it will break Pod’s back if he so much as attempt to carry you.”

Robert, still frowning, sighed. “I’m so sorry you’re stuck with a fat invalid.”

Finished with her earrings, Cersei began to walk toward him. She wore a long-sleeved dark green, velvet dress with a modest neckline and a straight skirt that ended at the knee. Conservative at first look, the dress hugged her curves, making it the perfect combination of elegant and sexy. Robert looked at her as she sat beside him, his blond, emerald angel.

“You’re a lot more whiny than a woman on her monthly time,” she joked, smiling at him tenderly. Whatever happened in his life, Robert knew, as long as Cersei looked at him like that, knowing he was the only person in the world she looked at with her heart in her eyes, he was going to be alright. 

“Maybe I should wear the gown and you the suit,” he said, putting his arm around her. “My clothes do look better on you, my heart. I’m so sorry for being so clumsy the other night--”

“I’m just as responsible,” Cersei told him. “But maybe we both need reading glasses. Although, I swear on my life that’s what the instruction on the manual said.”

“We’re getting old, Cersei.”

She tapped a finger on his chin. “It isn’t so bad. We’re with each other.”

“Yes. We are.”

“So why are you so grouchy? Didn’t I show you enough last night how devastatingly sexy I find you injured and oh so dependent on me?”

He smiled. Cersei barely concealed the purr of female appreciation that went through her. “The view is nice, I admit.”

“Thank you. I know but it’s good of you to say so.”

She slipped her fingers between his and put her head on his shoulder. They sat quietly like this for a few minutes before Robert spoke.

“Cersei, you will tell me if something’s wrong, won’t you?”

She picked her head up from his shoulder to look at him. “Of course.”

“I say it because of what happened to Jaime and Brienne.”

Brienne. Cersei had not seen her since last night. Her goodsister was back but she hadn’t checked on her yet. Cersei felt guilty about not pressing her about what had happened last night, doing instead as Brienne bid. Her goodsister must learn to put herself before others sometimes, she thought.

Thinking of Brienne reminded her of what had yet to happen to her body. She had checked in the bathroom just before getting dressed. As the hours went, she became more certain she was pregnant. Her breasts were too sensitive, felt heavy. She estimated she was a few weeks along. Yet a part of her both hoped and dreaded that she was. She didn’t trust herself to move on if another child were lost. She couldn’t bear the devastation on Robert’s face if that happened again. Yet, yet, she hoped, she hoped, if her very wish came true it would cling to her and fight to live in her, her womb that should be its shield rather than the sword. 

“I can’t promise to tell you right away, but I will tell you, Robert.”

“And I’ll be right here. I won’t be going anywhere. I’ll fight the Stranger when it comes to take me.” 

“So dramatic,” she murmured, returning her head to his shoulder and putting her arms tight around his trim waist. “Are you sure you’re not a brother of mine?”

 

Bronn’s suit consisted of a black jacket, white shirt, burgundy tie and cream trousers. It was a little disconcerting to be not dressed in head-to-toe black but as of this afternoon, Lollys had told him she didn’t like that he looked like a sellsword of old all the time. She was going to exorcise any hint that suggested his like for the mercenary and bring his style to the present.

He ran a comb through his hair. He was fifty-two but his hair was still black, thank the Gods. There was little he could do to the clear, deep lines on his face, but he thought he looked quite fine for a man his age. Lollys certainly thought so, he told himself with a grin as her thin arms went around his waist. She pressed her face to his back.

“I enjoyed this afternoon,” she told him.

“Me too.” He turned in her arms so he could put his hands on her waist. Lollys wore her long blond hair loose. Her dress was black and off-shoulder, with a skirt that flared to her knees. Black stockings and stilettos finished her look. She looked lovely, and the pink bloom in her cheeks made her look younger than her thirty-eight years.

“We should do it more often. Like, do we really have to be away from home to enjoy each other like that?”

“No,” he agreed. “We should make time, you’re right.”

She tucked her head under his chin. “Bronn?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you happy with just me and Lyra?”

“A seemingly innocent question,” Bronn mused, “but in truth, a landmine. It’s not `just’ you and Lyra for me.”

“But are you happy?”

“What the fuck do you think? Of course I am. You love me, we’re healthy, our daughter’s happy and healthy. What more could a worthless shit like me ask for?”

Lollys looked up at him. “You’re not worthless or shit. Stop that.”

“Ah, you know that’s just how I am. I don’t hate myself.”

“Good. Because I like you very much.”

Then she returned her head to his chest. 

“Bronn?” She asked again.

“Yes?”

“Do you think,” she pulled away and stared at him with her round, pale blue eyes. “Do you think, do you. . .I wouldn’t be against having more children with you. Especially since I know that any child with you will be just as wonderful as Lyra.”

His smile was huge and he knew he looked goofy. He didn’t care. “I’m glad you told me.” 

 

Margaery sat before the vanity mirror, brushing her cheeks with makeup. Her hair was pulled back in a loose chignon, with a few carefully escaping tendrils curling around her temples and down her long, swan-like neck. Her dress was a delicate, ice-blue chiffon with narrow straps and a full skirt that rustled when she moved. Her only jewelry was diamond studs. 

Tyrion, standing by the door to his closet, watched as Margaery lowered the brush and leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting her makeup. Who knew that such a movement could be so graceful and reach right into his heart? He never knew. Not until Margaery Tyrell.

In truth, every little thing she did was, as that popular pop song said, magic. When she smiled, it was like looking into a thousand suns. When she laughed it was the sweetest song. When she looked at him, whether with a twinkle in her eye or she just happened to catch his gaze, Tyrion felt twice the man he was. When she drove, her delicate fingers on the wheel, her legs shifting, the slight muscles on her thighs flexing, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Even when she sometimes went to bed with that unnecessary gook on her face that she claimed made her skin soft as rose petals, or slept with a cap or curlers, Tyrion knew he was with a goddess.   
They had been together for close to two years now. The most wonderful two years of his life, in his opinion. Two years of being enthralled and helplessly, truly, deeply in love with Margaery. She was the one woman whom he could talk to about anything, the one person in the world whose thoughts and opinions mattered to him. He had confessed to her his pain, all his pain, he thought, but from his talk with Cersei earlier, he had been holding back.

Margaery smiled at him through the mirror. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me?”

“I can live on your eyes and your smile, Miss Tyrell.”

“Sounds creepy,” she said with a mock shudder before turning around in her seat to face him, “but I’ll take it.”

He walked to her slowly before taking her slim, long-fingered hands in his. His hands were smaller than hers but wide-palmed, with thick, stubby fingers. The contrast was both poetic and macabre. Beauty and the beast, he thought but didn’t let go.

“Sometimes, no, many times, I wonder what I did to have you in my life,” he said, looking at their joined hands.

Margaery tilted her head to the side, looking like a thoughtful doll. “I don’t. I know I did something right.”

Tyrion looked at her then. “Don’t you mean something wrong?”

“You are my prize, darling. Don’t you know that?”

“I’m a prize? How little you ask of yourself, Miss Tyrell.”

“Maybe I see it as getting the best. The king of kings, if you will.” She smiled, teasingly. “I’ve always wanted to be the queen.”

“Kings aren’t four-foot, five inches tall.”

“Who said? I did not know there was a height requirement.”

“For ghouls and monsters there isn’t.”

“Tyrion,” Margaery’s voice was suddenly sharp. She narrowed her eyes. “You’re neither of those things.”

“Am I not?”

“What’s going on?”

He ran a finger down her soft, slightly callused palm. “Margaery, why are you with me?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“I want to know.”

Suddenly, she snatched her hand away from him. She shot to her feet and whirled away from the vanity, her skirt rustling as it brushed her calves. She brushed past Tyrion. 

“It’s a fair question.”

“No, it’s not. That’s not a question you ask somebody who’s loved you from the very first moment you met. That’s a question you ask a stranger. That’s a question you ask somebody you don’t trust.” Margaery put her hands on her waist as she glared at him, her eyes simmering coals. 

“But will you love me enough to be with me, really with me?” Tyrion went on, refusing to back down. 

“Really with you? You haven’t asked me!”

“What am I supposed to ask you?” He was suddenly confused.

“Gods, for a genius you can be so dumb, Tyrion. You ask me stupid questions but not the one you should ask! Not the one I’ve been waiting for you to ask! And you’ve no idea, you have no fucking idea, you stupid, fucking, asshole, you idiot, what I’ve been going through these past few days thinking about us and our future. You’d rather play with other people’s children than-than-I don’t fucking know! You’d rather be with other people’s children than ask me if I want yours! Almost two years and you’ve never asked me to move in with you, you’ve never asked me to think of a future with you. All you’ve done is ask me to stay the night. It’s not enough anymore. And you, asking me why I’m with you, for you to dare imply that I see being with you as punishment means you don’t trust me. You don’t love me.” Margaery face crumpled. “You don’t love me.”

 

“Seven hells,” Jaime muttered, struggling with the cufflinks.

His fingers were stiff, the slightest movement sprang a pain down to his wrists. He should try getting a shirt with built-in buttons than cufflinks, he thought, yanking off the intricate, gold cufflinks that were the initials of his sons’ names.

Behind him, Brienne sat at the foot of the bed. She wore a sleeveless white dress that showed off her broad shoulders. Its neckline was a deep V, plunging almost to her ribcage. On a busty woman, the effect would be obscene and slutty. With her, it was elegant, sensual yet innocent. She was fastening a slim bracelet of sapphires and gold on her wrist. He recognized it as his first birthday gift to her.

“I can help, if you want,” she offered to him, her voice shy.

Jaime, his back to her, said, his voice defeated, “You told me not to touch you, wife.”

“I don’t want you to. But I can touch you.”

He faced her, hope in his eyes until he realized her expression was stoic. 

He sighed and offered his wrists to her. “Alright, then. Since you’re doing the touching.”

She stood up. Her dress clung to her like a whisper and the skirt fluttered around her like a hundred butterfly wings. She was still barefoot. Her effect on him was both endearing and torture. 

She took his wrists and pulled him closer to her, easily, as if he was weightless. Standing close, with only the barest millimetres between them, Jaime knew he only had to tilt his head a bit downward to rest his forehead against hers, feel her skin, be surrounded by her warmth. He only had to kiss her. But no, she didn’t want him touching her. She was still angry. She hated him. 

“What did you do to yourself, husband?” she asked, her head bent as she examined his mangled hands. His fingers looked like hamburger. Her fingers ghosted over the cuts yet he felt her touch to his soul. It was a brush of tamed fire. “Did you clean it? It might get infected.”

“If my hands get infected, I wouldn’t want them on you. Makes it easier to fulfil what you want of me. They’ll fall off and I can’t touch you ever again.”

“Stop it.” Her eyes were blue flames as they looked at him briefly before she started working on the cufflinks. 

He breathed and it ruffled her hair. “Brienne, do you hate me so much you can’t really have me touching you?”

“I hate you so much and it’s Seven Hells. If you touch me I’ll forget why and I don’t think I can forgive myself. You don’t know the power you have over me, Jaime.”

“Power? You’re the one with the power here. It’s killing me being so close to you and not being able to touch you.” His lips were practically at her cheek.

“No, Jaime. I can’t. Not yet.” She reached for the other cufflink.

“When?” Jaime’s voice sounded tearful. “You have to tell me until when, wife. Please.”

“It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, hate you and be so angry. I don’t know, I don’t know when and you can’t demand a deadline.”

“So you’ll hold on to this hate?”

“I’m not holding on. You think I like this? Or do you actually think there’s a single pleasant thing with what you did to me?”

“Of course not. I regret those words. I regret hurting you and you being afraid of me. I’d throw myself off a cliff into the Sunset Sea. I am ready to do anything for your forgiveness, Brienne, but something tells me I don’t have the right to even ask. Am I right? That’s how much you hate me.” 

Finishing, she released his hands. Jaime opened his palms, like a beggar.

“Does this mean I don’t get a kiss for my birthday?” He asked, forced to make light of the dreadful situation. It was a hollow attempt. And it had Brienne moving away from him. He dropped his hands and pushed them in his pockets. He watched her slip on her shoes, high-heeled, delicate sandals. Then she headed for the door. 

“We should hurry downstairs,” She told him. “We must be late.”

“You told me you love me,” he said desperately.

That got her to look at him. The pain in her eyes would be tattooed in his mind forever. 

“Then remember that. Strange as it sounds, Jaime, it is because of that why I’m doing this. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Except for Jaime and Brienne, this story hasn't really featured the couples by themselves yet. I wanted to show Robert and Cersei being sweet, Bronn and Lollys post-sex, Tyrion manning himself up to face that question but failing, and Jaime and Brienne dealing with the aftermath of their tennis court conversation. 
> 
> Smash and Burn was a very difficult chapter to write. This is Brienne facing her husband after he's been a shit to her and Jaime realizing the gravity of his words and actions and how the pain his wife feels is far from over. I couldn't believe the chapter ended that way either, and thought this was the last time they'll get tortured like that. But it doesn't make sense, logically, to just leave them at that and fast-forward to Jaime's birthday. The story deserves better! So I decided, yes, there will still be some Jaime and Brienne angst, as you can see in this chapter, Behind Closed Doors, but it was also time to take a closer look at our favorite couples. Bronn sweet and tender was a laugh to write and Cersei with, "Are you sure you're not a brother of mine?" line is probably my favorite. It's my take on Jaime Lannister's "Are you sure we're not related?" line to Brienne in Season 4 of Game of Thrones. 
> 
> More chapters to come! This is going to be longer than I previously planned. Watch out for my Renly/Loras and Sansa/Jon chapters. *flexes fingers


	16. Reel and Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Sansa hair action, because of Jon.

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing and know nothing. 

 

While the adults were slowly gathering at the formal dining room for dinner, Sansa and Loras were in the family home theatre. So far, this was one thing Sansa liked about the imposing, too elegant Casterly Rock. 

The theatre was more luxurious than any movie theatre. The seats were all plush, soft-as-clouds La-Z-Boys, which you could recline to relax your back and pull out to stretch your legs. It had compartments for drinks and food. Sansa admitted she was no techie but she thought even the nerdiest techie would be impressed how the sounds from the movie screen seemed to come from the seats as well. They vibrated with every boom and spectacle from the movie being seen.

It was Cersei who brought them there when they returned from their trip. She suggested that the children could watch a movie after they have eaten, keeping them occupied while the “old people,” as the beautiful, sleek blond told them with a grin, entertained themselves. Then she proceeded to show them the popcorn machine, and which button to push to buzz a member of the staff in the kitchen and request for more food or whatever they might need. Definitely luxurious, Sansa thought, although, despite the thrill of being on a La-Z-Boy, she kept a tight watch on her twin charges and held them close. There was enough space on the seat.

Ty and Drew were the most behaved babies she’d encountered, her younger brothers Bran and Rickon included. Bran as a child was all smiles and specialized in breaking the rules, which resulted in many hospital visits for a broken nose, finger, a broken leg. Rickon was the wilder of the two, always intent on getting his way yet ready with a hug and kiss when he was younger. 

Perhaps it was too soon to tell how Ty and Drew would turn out. It was hard to tell who was the more mischievous of the two. Sometimes she thought it was Drew, who was known for squealing before laughing, his arms waving. But Ty would remind her that he could squeal more and laugh louder and then Drew beat his brother—it was never-ending. If they weren’t so cute and sweet, Sansa would have quit. They were easy babies, even when they were teething and screaming blue murder. 

She hadn’t been able to spend much time with them since arriving at Casterly Rock, what with Brienne and Jaime taking them away as soon as arriving and relegating her to duties that lasted no more than a couple of hours. Plus, the Lannisters took over at night. Then today, Brienne took Ty and Drew with her early in the morning and did not come back early in the afternoon. When Sansa and Loras came back, it was to loud arguments out in the terrace, Cersei and Renly circling Tyrion, who looked bored and most entertained as Drew and Ty alternated between screaming, “Fuck!” and “Ass!” Then Joffrey and Lyra overheard and starting echoing them. Cersei lost it and threatened to strangle Tyrion. As she did it, she covered Drew’s ears. Renly too covered Ty’s ears as he threatened to stamp Tyrion flat on the ground, “that you’ll have to be peeled off with a spatula, you little shit.”

Loras and Sansa quickly intervened, taking away the children from the warring adults. Cersei too removed herself from the situation and told them to follow her. This was unlike anything Sansa had faced before, and from how shocked Loras was, so was he. But it was easy to tell Joffrey and Lyra why saying “fuck” and “ass” was inappropriate. They were older and could be told. It was something else trying to reason to a pair of one-year-olds who were fascinated with their bright blue shoelaces one minute then pulling them off to chew on the soles the next. And seemed to make a toast before doing so, slapping their shoes against each other’s before gnawing on them. 

Cersei’s solution, being that they couldn’t be brought back to their mother with that vocabulary, was for the twins to be tired out. If they were tired enough, they'd have very little energy to speak. This was when she showed the adjoining rooms of the playroom and the home theatre.

As soon as they were inside the playroom, Joffrey and Lyra ran off, drawn by the sudden explosion of color and toys on every flat surface. Holding on their tiny hands, Sansa looked at Ty and Drew looking around first before going off in different directions had she not held them fast. A plastic slide at the corner became Lyra’s domain. Joffrey discovered the ball pit and demanded Loras find him before he dived in and disappeared.

The rest of their day was spent running after the children, pulling them out of tight holes, pushing them down inclined paths, getting them out of the ball pit in between feeding them dinner and in Sansa’s case, taking the twins to the bathroom. It wasn’t until they were at the theatre and watching Aladdin that Sansa’s thoughts veered to that encounter at the convenience store.  
Maybe because Aladdin reminded her of Jon Snow. It was the dark eyes and hair, but different. Very different. One, Jon Snow’s hair looked like it would repel the most powerful hair-taming products and two, what was it? The man was married and he was hitting on her! 

“Jerk,” Sansa muttered as Jafar smiled from the screen.

Ty pointed. “Jerk!”

Loras, who was sitting at the end of the row, looked at them. “Yeah, I don’t think that will be okay for the Lannisters, Sansa.” 

“Sorry,” she whispered. At least Joffrey was focused on the movie, his head resting on Loras’ shoulder. Lyra sat between Sansa and Joffrey. She would nod off every now and then, her mouth hanging open.

At twenty-four years old, Sansa thought herself weird for having very little experience with men. She wasn’t a virgin—for all her beauty, guys were intimidated by her, with one even saying she was too beautiful and it didn’t seem right to touch her. Her first and only time was with a stranger in a bar, while she was on a trip with friends in Pentos. He was drunk and so was she. It was only memorable because it happened but since then, she promised to herself that the next time she had sex it going to be with someone she cared about.

She went out on dates once in a while but as the years went by, she saw, even for herself, how her beauty became more magnified. The auburn of her hair got more vivid, her eyes bluer, her figure curved to a shape women envied. And it made it more difficult to be approached. Call her old-fashioned but she would rather be chased. The few times she let herself be worn down, she regretted it soon after.

Maybe because she demanded too much but that person whom you have loads in common with, or who at least intrigued you, she was beginning to believe it a myth. Nobody seemed interested in conversation, sharing interests. There was no one she could talk to about alleviating hunger in The Red Waste, no one who shared her interest in Danaerys Targaryen’s fashion, or at least, no one who cared to ask what made her care for these things. So she thought, maybe she should just go for heat next time. Perhaps it was too much to ask for someone close to her age to have as many interests or be interesting.

Jon Snow had looked at her as if he wanted to know everything.

And he had smiled at her, confirming that he was as handsome as she first thought. More, even.

When she was pressed close to him, everything in her leaped. That had not happened before.

Then it turned out he was married.

That had not happened before either.

She sighed loudly, drawing a curious look from Loras. Since she kept her eyes on the screen, she didn’t see him wanting to ask if she was alright. 

Why, why when there was someone who finally seemed to call out to her, everything of her, he had to be married?

“Jerk,” Sansa said again as Aladdin smiled at her from the screen.

“Jerk!” It was Drew who repeated the word this time.

“Sansa,” Loras warned her.

“I’m sorry. I really feel the movie. I don’t understand why men are such liars. Do they really think we won’t find out?”

Loras raised his eyebrow. “You are way into the movie, Sansa. And it’s a Disney movie.”

Joffrey pressed his fingers to his nanny’s lips and said, “Ssshhh.”

“I know, I know, you little squirt,” Loras whispered. “Tell Sansa to be quiet.”

Joffrey turned to her and smiled. “Quiet. Please?”

“Sorry, Joffrey. I will.”

“Momma,” Drew said, rubbing his face against Sansa’s armpit, tickling her.

“She’s having dinner, sweetie,” Sansa told him.

“Momma,” Drew repeated, pressing his face on her chest this time. She knew what that meant.

“Loras, can you handle them on your own for a few minutes? The little guy here wants milk.”

“Give him to me,” Loras said, holding out his arms. Sansa picked up Drew and deposited him on his lap. Then Ty was next. He held the babies pressed to his sides. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

It was her first time on this part of Casterly Rock but Sansa managed to find the way to the kitchen in record time. She nodded shyly at the staff preparing sumptuous food with the most heavenly aromas. The powder formula was in the twins’ room but she knew that Brienne had prepared some breastmilk that could just be heated at a moment’s notice. She went to the freezer, checked the date on a bottle. She excused herself around the staff, who easily moved around her, as she made her way to the microwave oven.  
When the oven dinged, she pulled out the bottle and squeezed some of the milk to her inner wrist. It would be just warm by the time she returned to the playroom. She held the bottle and began to make her way out of the kitchen, retreating to long, maze-like hallways that would bring her back to the theatre.

She was standing in the middle of a forked pathway, not remembering which she came from when she heard her name being called. Turning, she raised a russet eyebrow at Jon Snow.

He looked grubby in his sweatshirt and jeans earlier. Grubby but everything in her responded to him. Now he was in a blue suit paired with a white shirt and a silver and gray tie. His hair was as wild as ever but Sansa thought she could probably run her hands through it without scalping him. Stunned at the direction of her thoughts, her cheeks began to heat.  
“What are you doing here?” She demanded.

“I’m a guest here. I’m a good friend of Brienne’s. Also Jaime’s. He’ll deny it, but I am. He can’t resist me.”

“Oh.”

“Listen, I want to explain some things—“

“I know what you’re going to say,” Sansa interrupted. He was two inches shorter than her five-foot-nine. “Your wife is away and you miss her so you thought to engage in a little flirting game with me. I understand. But you should know I’m not and will never be interested in a married man.”

“That’s precisely what I wanted to talk to you about. I lied. I couldn’t just go there and ask for a pregnancy test. I had to make up a story.” He smiled and he looked damned angelic, shit. “I’m not married.”

Sansa frowned. “Your girlfriend’s pregnant and you were flirting with me? What’s wrong with you? That doesn’t make it any less wrong.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend!” Jon exclaimed. “That—I told you. I was getting the test for someone else. It was a favour for a good friend.”

“Really. I have not heard that before,” Sansa said in a tone that said otherwise.

Jon, catching on her meaning, looked surprised. His gray eyes sobered. “I swear to you I’m telling the truth, Sansa.”

“Yep, that I’ve heard before,” she said, turning away, her hair whipping him right on the face. 

Jon winced. “Ouch. Wait, Sansa!”

“Stay away from me, Jon Snow, or I’ll tell Brienne you’re harassing me,” Sansa said over her shoulder, stomping away. She gave him a glare so cold it would make even the most vicious White Walker of legend shake in his knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New couple alert, anyone?


	17. The King Speaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tywin is pissed with how everyone is behaving during dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not yet over for Jaime and Brienne.

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I know nothing and own nothing. 

Dinner last night was filled with conversation and laughter. Tyrion teased Brienne, who blushed and looked down her plate while Jaime grinned and kissed her on the cheek, deepening the red on her cheeks. Cersei rolled her eyes at something Bronn said, while Lollys giggled and slapped him lightly on the shoulder. Margaery wanted to know what happened to Robert’s ankle but Renly told her, looking comically grim, that if she knew, truly knew, she’d have nightmares the rest of her life. 

Rarely were dinners at Casterly Rock like this, and even more so when Tywin sat at the head of the table, easily and smoothly contributing to the conversation that flowed like the finest wine. Robert said something that had everyone in stitches, including Tywin, a man who was known for never showing the slightest hint of emotion, be it anger or pleasure. Despite this, he was genuinely glad that everyone got along. He smiled at Brienne the most, trying to catch her eye but his son blocked his way. That was fine. Jaime so consumed by his wife that he couldn’t not look at her nor avoid touching her for more than ten seconds was something Tywin never thought would happen to a son whose romances were strangely very few.

Tywin knew his children grumbled about those Friday dinners he demanded from them and they couldn’t wait to leave after dessert, hopping in their cars and driving fast as if the Stranger were after them. So when he managed to wrangle Tyrion into agreeing to do exactly as he wished for Jaime and Cersei’s birthday, he wanted to make sure his children and their guests were comfortable and had a good time. Casterly Rock only saw much activity during Christmas and New Year and was quiet for the rest of the year. The twins’ forty-fifth birthday was something to be celebrated but Jaime and Cersei had both grumbled about big parties and being forced to mingle with people they couldn’t be bothered to know. This gave Tywin the opportunity to make what he wanted happen: a long weekend with his children.

He would be seventy-three years old this year. Though as healthy and fit as ever, as told by his doctor, the signs of age were beginning to creep up on him in slow, sure stages. His knees were often stiff, especially as cooler weather approached. His exercise regimen, which included weight-lifting and long runs, had been reduced to swimming a few days a week or walking around the gardens.

The board of Lannister Conglomerate had been pressuring him for years to have one of his children take over or he assign some other member of the family. When Tyrion was born, Tywin saw himself retiring at sixty years old. He had been working for the family since he was young and looked forward to rest. But life had other plans. He hated that he had doubts about his son’s abilities when doctors confirmed his condition and when Joanna died, he couldn’t stand to be at home where her presence lingered in her lavender scent on her pillow, the flowers she had picked and planted in the garden. Work was the balm to his pain.

When Cersei and Jaime were born, he thought him blessed with more heirs. The future of Lannister Conglomerate was set. As the years passed, it became clearer and clearer that none of his children were interested in being in charge of a business that housed at least a dozen companies and employed most of Westeros and even a good part of Essos. Tyrion, who had the head for it, would rather burn his efforts on educations. Jaime had flat-out declared he was going to make a name for himself and refused to have anything to do with Lannister Conglomerate. Cersei, well, Tywin never considered her. No matter how much women’s rights had advanced, there were still men who wouldn’t treat her as an equal. She had a good head on her shoulders and recognized her beauty for the weapon it was but her interests were in blood and guts, not spreadsheets. 

Tywin was going to use the long weekend as an opportunity to speak to his children about legacy. He was old, far from tired, but he was old. He had updated his will and he made changes that would vastly affect their shares and their say on how the company was to be run—unless one of them took over. His children were in their forties, far from young yet not too late to take over the reins, and, by not working for the company, had somehow garnered much respect from people. But they will not be trusted, not completely, if one of them only took over upon his death. No. He had to start turning over the reins of leadership as soon as possible. You never knew when the Stranger might come calling.

Tonight, it seemed the Stranger had visited them all.

The conversation was so muted the only loudest sound was that of wine being poured into their goblets. Tywin raised his eyebrow when Margaery requested for iced tea and Cersei just a glass of water. These women were known to never turn down wine. Brienne, who wasn’t a drinker, stared at the dark red contents of her goblet. Only Lollys appreciated the rare, Dornish vintage, and smiled shyly as she asked for refill.

If the women were quiet, the men were clearly distracted. Except for Bronn and Robert, who were discussing a photo shoot with the famous Oberyn Martell for a series of car ads, the other men stared off into space or physically forced themselves to take part. Tyrion kept on glancing at Margaery, who wouldn’t look at him. Her brown eyes looked strangely watery. Cersei, who looked like her mind drifted off every now and then, would bring herself back every time Robert touched her hand or said her name.  
Jon Snow, a friend of Jaime and Brienne’s, spoke in a strained voice and would only nod. Renly participated in Bronn and Robert’s talk but it was clear he’d much rather be somewhere else than here. He kept glancing out the doors, the windows. At one point, he asked Cersei and Robert where Joffrey was, reasoning he had spent so little time with his nephew and wanted to see him after dinner. 

Jaime looked like a defeated, lost man who would never know of hope again. The playful glitter in his eyes was gone, in its place a blank, red-rimmed stare. Brienne carefully avoided looking at him but her shoulders were tense, as if bracing herself for an imminent attack. They had not touched the entire evening. So she had spoken to him, Tywin thought. Whatever she said was, in Jaime’s opinion, his death sentence. 

His son sighed and closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were redder than before.

Tywin frowned. This was not how he envisioned this birthday weekend.

Seven hells, Tywin thought, annoyed. Wasn’t it enough that they were hysterical teenagers, now they were even more hysterical adults? What was he to do? Buy that Kleenex company? It looked like he had had to, judging from how most of his dinner companions seemed to be on the verge of tears. They’d clear the supplies at home and at Lannisport. If the company were his, it would have a truck of tissues in his driveway pronto.

This would not do. 

“Has the Stranger visited you all today?” He asked them directly, his eyes hard glass as he stared at each of them. “What has happened that you can’t forget your miserable lives and actually be pleasant dining companions? This is my house. I demand that when you come to my table, it is with a smile and the willingness, nay, the good manners, to be discreet and participate in mindless talk. Otherwise, excuse ourselves and do not drag me down to whatever hell you’re going through.”  
Chairs suddenly scraped back, exploding in the room. Tywin watched in amazement as his children flitted out, including Renly and Jon, who tucked their arms under Robert’s and helped him up and move. By the time the confusion and rush was over, only Bronn and Lollys were left, shocked and wide-eyed.

“Blast them,” Tywin muttered, draining his goblet and holding it up for a refill. “So, Bronn. Is Oberyn Martell really as crazy as he’s reported to be?”

 

“Jaime, Jaime! I told you not to touch me!” Brienne hissed, unsuccessfully trying to yank her hand from Jaime’s iron grip. Her hand was bigger, her wrist somewhat thicker but he was holding her so tightly it was beginning to feel numb. She tried pulling again and he just pulled her back, harder.

When Tywin issued his decree, Brienne had intended to stay. That is, until Jaime suddenly grabbed her and took advantage of her shock to tow her behind him. She barely managed to walk after him, else she’d trip on her three-inch heels and crash on one of the antique vases on display. She looked helplessly at her friends and family, who had silently gone up the stairs and oblivious to her struggle. Jaime, seeing where they were headed quickly, then dragged her out into the terrace, pushing open the French doors and yanking her hard after him. Brienne gasped as her heels slipped on the marble tiles. Jaime quickly turned and held her to his chest.  
His scent, his warmth, his body was wildfire to her senses. Brienne grunted and shoved him away. To her surprise, Jaime let her, staggering and falling on one of the lounge chairs. 

“What is wrong with you?” she demanded. “Do I mean so little that you couldn’t fulfil my one small request?”

“Small request? I’m in physical pain from not being able to touch you. My soul bleeds that I can’t touch you,” Jaime shot back.

“You are so hateful, Jaime Lannister!”

“And I love you. Keep on hating me. I’ll just go on loving you.”

That stopped her for a few seconds but it did little in lessening the storm in her sapphire eyes. 

“Brienne,” Jaime choked out, “Brienne, you have to tell me why. You didn’t tell me why you didn’t want me last night. Tell me I’m wrong and say you just didn’t want me, that it’s because of what I did. But you said no to me before that. You lied to me. I have to know.”

Brienne, seething, began to turn away. She heard Jaime stand up.

“Please, please, don’t walk away from me, Brienne. If you’re going to fight for us by leaving me, I’m going to fight by begging you to stay. I only wanted you to myself, just a few minutes. I swear to you. I only wanted to touch you. It wasn’t going to go any further. ”

Still keeping her back to him, she growled, “You gave me your word.”

“I’m sorry. I have no excuse for breaking my promise to you. I regret my actions. Though I will say that the few seconds I was able to touch you I found myself being able to breathe again.”

“So selfish. All you care about is you. Not me.”

He didn’t know what else to say except, “I love you, Brienne. My wife. My moon. My life.”

Slowly, she turned to face him. Her chin high, her eyes hard, she said, “The children will stay with you tonight. There are no other adjoining rooms here, if I’m not mistaken. I’ll find another place to sleep.”

“Brienne,” Jaime gasped in disbelief but she was already walking away. He turned away, unable to stand another memory of her leaving him alone, in the darkness. Not a single star twinkled in the horizon to take him out of the black world swooping down on him.


	18. So Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery shanghais herself organizing an impromptu party. Jaime finds Cersei and Brienne in the bathroom. Cersei needs some hand-holding.

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing and know nothing. 

 

When Tyrion went to the bathroom, Margaery sprang out of their room and into the hallway, running barefoot to Jaime and Brienne’s room. Before reaching their door, however, she saw Brienne reach the top of the stairs, looking like her world had just collapsed. 

Margaery’s feet screeched into a halt and she said, breathlessly, “Brienne. Hi. Uh, where are you off to?”

“My room. Are you okay, Margaery? You weren’t speaking much during dinner,” Brienne said, reaching for the doorknob.

Shit, Margaery thought. How was she ever going to know the result of the test? The package was stashed under her pillow and she couldn’t take it, not with Tyrion in the room and finding it in the trash. 

“Oh, just a little pooped. Um, can I go in with you? I, uh, want to talk to you about something?”

“Can it wait? I have to check on my boys and I might be a while,”

“No problem.” Margaery’s brown eyes sparkled. “Oh, I have an idea! Why don’t we all girls meet in the library? We haven’t gotten together since arriving and with the party tomorrow, we’ll hardly have time with each other. Then we’re all leaving at first light come Sunday. Would you like that, Brienne? We can have a pajama party and drink champagne—“

Brienne’s face pinked. “Um, I won’t be drinking, Marge.”

“Of course you’re not. I forgot. But Cersei and Lollys. And, uh, me, of course. Only a little.”

Brienne raised a pale brow. “Only a little? You can down an entire bottle of Dom Perignon by yourself.”

“And those days are behind me. Please, Brienne?” 

“Alright. I’ll meet you there. Do you need help in gathering the girls?”

“No. I can do it. Uh, do you need help with Ty and Drew? It would be my pleasure. Or I can help you pick cute pajamas for the party. Or I can—“

“Thank you, Margaery. But there’s no need for you to put yourself out like that. I appreciate it. I’ll meet you at the library, okay?”  
Brienne opened the door and closed it behind her gently. Margaery’s shoulders sank.

“Okay,” she murmured.

As Margaery went off to invite Lollys to an impromptu pajama party, while cursing the Seven in her mind, Cersei was putting on her own sleepwear—an old, pink sweatshirt and white silk pajamas. As she got dressed, she watched Robert in bed, squinting at the words in the book. 

“I thought your father was going to have our heads tonight,” he said, flipping a page. 

“He’s a Lannister man. He’s dramatic,” Cersei said dismissively. 

She looked at him. Earlier, Robert asked that if something were wrong, she was to go to him and tell him. Instead, she went to Brienne. She bit her lip. She couldn’t tell Robert yet, not when she wasn’t sure but her body had been telling her she already was, she was carrying another child. _Robert’s child,_ she thought, torn between fear and wanting to shout her happiness to the sky. 

“Um, my heart,” she began, trying to sound casual, “I need to speak with Brienne. Will you miss me while I’m gone?” 

He peered at her over the top of his book. “If you take long, I will will.”

She smiled. “Then I’ll be gone the whole night.” 

“You’re not being nice, Cersei.”

She knelt toward him and kissed him full on the lips. “I was only kidding. I do need to talk to Brienne. I walked in on her and my brother ready to kill each other last night. Maybe I can help.”

“It’s a private thing between a husband and his wife, my heart. And would you really like to get in between two battering rams?”

“I don’t think anyone’s spoken to Brienne, except for Renly and Jon, though the gods only know what advice they’ve given her, if any.” She brushed a lock of his dark hair from his proud forehead. 

“I just don’t want you getting involved in something that you might get blamed for.”

“Maybe all she wants is somebody to listen. I can do that, can’t I?”

“Okay. But the minute she asks you what to do, stay out of it.”

“Done,” Cersei said, kissing him again. 

She went to Jaime and Brienne’s room. “Brienne,” she called, knocking on the door.

“It’s open,” Brienne called from inside.

Cersei entered the room. Brienne wasn’t by the bed, which meant she was with the twins. This was where Cersei found her, sitting between the cribs and looking at her boys. She was still dressed.

Cersei took a deep breath and went for the direct approach.

“Last night, I told you what’s happening to me. I came here wanting to talk to you some more but I can’t help but notice things between you and my brother. I know it’s none of my business but I was wondering, maybe you need someone who can listen. You listened to me last night. It’s my turn.”

Brienne sighed. “I did not listen to you to extract a favour, Cersei.”

“No. But you should learn about favors and putting yourself first. What’s wrong?”

“Believe me when I say I don’t really want to talk about it.” Brienne stood up and Cersei saw she was barefoot. “Really, Cersei. Thank you but I’m so tired talking and thinking about it that it’s a great relief when it’s someone else’s problems in my mind. About last night, uh, are you sure you’re pregnant?”

“Not yet.”

Brienne surprised her by suddenly blushing. “I have a pregnancy test.”

“A pregnancy test? Do you think you’re pregnant too?”

“Um, I was doing some shopping when samples were given out. At that Port store. I—I won’t be using it anytime soon. Would you like to try it? It’s Mommy Or Not.”

“The brand is reliable. Of course, peeing on a stick isn’t one hundred percent accurate but maybe it will put my mind to rest.”  
Brienne got up and led her to the bathroom. Cersei clamped her mouth shut when her goodsister bent to retrieve the pack from the cabinet under the sink. She pulled out a stick from the carton and held one out to her.

Cersei stared at it.

Brienne shook it. “Go on. Let’s find out.”

“I’m scared, Brienne,” Cersei whispered.

“Of course you are. The only thing to do is get over it.” Brienne’s forehead curled as she shook the stick at her again. “Go and take a piss.”

“For a moment there, you reminded me of Tywin.”

“Shut up. Go.” She pressed the stick in Cersei’s palm and closed the bathroom door behind her.

Cersei stared at the stick. She knew the drill. Catch it mid-stream. Wait three minutes. A plus sign meant yes, she was most likely pregnant. A negative sign, either she totally wasn’t or the test must be repeated to be sure. She nodded to herself and then sat on the toilet.

As soon as she was done, she threw the door open. Brienne froze in putting on her pajamas and shook her head at Cersei. 

“Sorry,” Cersei said quickly. “Brienne, I need you with me. I don’t think. . .I can’t do this alone.”

Brienne straightened up, her pants now on. Cersei recognized Jaime’s old t-shirt from Vale Prep. “What do you mean?”

“I need you with me in case. . . _I can’t,_ Brienne, oh gods, I can’t be there alone when the results come on. Please?”

She held out her hand and Brienne took it, engulfing it in her huge, warm grip. She squeezed it in gratitude and together, they went to the bathroom.

They stared at the stick. A minute had passed.

“Uh, I forgot to tell you,” Brienne said, clearing her throat. “Margaery’s throwing a pajama party for us girls tonight. At the library. Whatever the result, I think you should join us, Cersei.”

“You have enough if I have to retake the test, do you?” Cersei asked. She hadn’t let go of Brienne’s hand.

“Yes. More than enough.” Brienne stared at the test.

They stood there, anxiously staring at the little stick that was taking too long to confirm what Cersei prayed in her heart was a pregnancy when the sound of the main door to the room opening reached their ears. Cersei panicking, and dropped her goodsister’s hand as she ran out of the bathroom and almost ran smack into Jaime’s chest. Brienne, her eyes wide, used her massive frame to conceal the stick to her side.

“Jaime!” Cersei said, too loudly. She was a lot shorter than her brother. Quickly, she put her hands on his arms and turned him away from the bathroom. Over his shoulder, Brienne nodded at Cersei. She started rolling toilet paper off, wrapping it around the stick and sticking it deep in the trash bin. 

“Uh, hey. What are you doing here?” Cersei asked Jaime. 

He was frowning and didn’t look too pleased. “I’m wondering when was the last time I opened the door and you weren’t the first thing I saw. I miss those days.”

“Haha. You’re such fun, brother.” Cersei said, taking him by the arms again to turn him around. Brienne was leaving the bathroom, her head down, her shoulders hunched. “Brienne and I were having some girl talk while getting ready for the party.”

“What party?”

“Margaery’s all-girls pajama party.”

Jaime looked at Brienne, who was pushing her feet into slippers. “Looks like you found a place to sleep tonight, wife.” His voice sounded raw.

“We have to get going,” Brienne told Cersei.

“Do we? Oh, right. Yes. Um, see you tomorrow.” Cersei kissed him on the cheek. “Happy birthday in advance, Jaime.” 

“Advanced or late, I don’t care,” Jaime muttered. 

Cersei glanced at Brienne before leaving. As she closed the door behind her, Brienne told Jaime, “You’re going to have to find it in yourself to put on a brave face tomorrow.”

“Why? Shouldn’t I get to do whatever I want on my birthday? If I want to show the world what a miserable fuck I am, I should and I will.” 

“That’s not the Jaime Lannister I know.”

“Indeed. The Jaime Lannister you know would never hurt you.”

Brienne didn’t know what to say to that. Because she agreed.

“I asked this before, Brienne. Will you kiss me tomorrow?” 

“Please, don’t make this so hard,” she actually moaned, in pain. She wrapped her arms around herself and Jaime had to dig his heels on the floor to not go to her and take her in his. 

“Jaime,” she said, biting her lip, those cracked, dry lips that he swore to himself would be his again, no matter how long it took, “please. It still hurts.”

He hung his head. “I am so sorry.” 

“I know. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All those pregnancy tests and we STILL don't know who's knocked up?


	19. Me Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discoveries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fun to write!   
> NCW appears in Black Hawk Down and Kingdom of Heaven.

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing and know nothing. 

 

Podrick expected to be keeping late hours with guests this week. The staff, of whom he was in charge, where kept busy round-the-clock with preparing meals and overseeing whatever else they might need. It was the first time he entrusted with a confidence that he personally oversaw, driving to town during his break to get the supplies Miss Tyrell requested on behalf of Miss Lollys. Tonight, she called him via intercom to request sleeping accommodations at the library. “Just us four girls, me, Lollys, Brienne and Cersei,” she told him. Then she gave him a short list of food and refreshments they might need. He didn’t see anything unreasonable with her request. Before he took over, his departed Uncle Ilyn, who was head butler before him, had already warned him that Mr. Tyrion could drain the cellar and that when she was younger, he had to accompany Miss Cersei driving at night when she raided the highway for dead carcasses to study how animal organs looked like after getting squashed by a truck. One time, they discovered a dog bleeding on the highway and Miss Cersei had cried and cursed how she wasn’t a doctor yet and couldn’t save the animal. Uncle Ilyn brought the dog to the animal hospital. They stayed the whole night because Miss Cersei didn’t think it right to leave the dog and have it wake up to strange surroundings. 

So when Miss Margaery called him with her request, it was only a matter of Podrick putting his jacket back on and alerting some of the staff still on duty to pull out the feather mattresses from their air-tight storage bags and set them up in the library. While he oversaw the moving around of furniture and keeping precious antiques out of his mistress’ delicate hands, the kitchen staff readied snacks. This being women, lots of chocolate were prepared but also vegetable sticks and homemade dip. Parties weren’t held often at Casterly Rock but there was always food for surprise events. There weren’t potato chips or any other junk food besides chocolate so Pod tasked the chauffeur to go to Port Stop N’ Go for them. Pod went back to the library and set up the sound system and the TV. They might watch one of those chick flicks or whatever it was that had women shrieking as they gorged on chocolate throughout the night, he thought. 

An hour later, Brienne, Margaery, Cersei and Lollys stood at the doorway in their robes and pajamas, their faces various permutations of impressed. A long table was laden with candy, creamy pastries, bowls of potato chips, twizzlers, and there was also a chocolate and cheese fondue set up, with more bowls of fruit, marshmallow, and soft, crusty bread cut into cubes for dipping. Cersei spotted the mini-bar, opened it and whistled when she saw it crammed with sodas and beer, though with her condition, she didn’t want to drink anything stronger than water. There were bottles of Dom Perignon in ice, as well as bottles of vodka, tequila. Brienne, shuffling slowly into the room, blushed when she saw a bowl of raspberries.

Margaery clapped her hands. “Gods, that Podrick Payne should get a raise after this, Cersei.”

“He is good and fast,” Cersei agreed, finding a bottle of Snapple in the mini-bar. She pulled the tab and began to drink it. Margaery raised an eyebrow at her.

“Snapple? And here I thought you’d go straight for the vodka.”

“Working my way up.”

“I am so excited,” Lollys gushed, standing before the champagne bottles. “Oh, but, I’m not sure about opening a bottle. I mean, I’m not particularly skilled—“

Brienne held out her hand. “Here. Let me.”

She carefully uncorked the bottle, releasing a hiss rather than a pop. As champagne began to stream down the floor, Lollys grabbed one of the flutes and filled it. She took a sip. “Oh, that is good. That is soo good.”

“So what are we going to do, Marge?” Brienne asked, reaching for the knot of her robe. She frowned when it didn’t loosen immediately. “I’m warning you, I’m not much of a drinker but that chocolate fondue surely has my name on it.”

“Oh? I didn’t know you’re crazy about sweets,” Margaery said, dunking a potato chip in a salsa dip and chewing it. “I thought it was Jaime who liked sweets.”

“I indulge every now and then.”

“We should watch a movie,” Cersei said, strolling toward the screen. Under it was a cabinet that housed DVDs. She rifled through it. “Something mindless and fluffy.”

“Do you have any porn?” Lollys asked, peering over her shoulder.

“We do not keep porn in the house.”

Margaery sighed. “I don’t have my laptop. I have lots of gay porn there.”

Lollys eyes widened. “Ooh, gay porn! I haven’t seen any.”

Brienne looked uncomfortable. “Uh, maybe we should just watch one of those romantic comedies. I quite enjoy the one where she loses the guy in ten days.”

“I also like Love Actually.” Margaery grinned. She had grabbed the bowl of potato chips and eating straight from it. “Colin Firth is rather dishy, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Hold on, I’m in the mood for something old and romantic.” Cersei still pulled out the movies they wanted, however. “I’m thinking a black-and-white, a classic. . .”

The four women suddenly looked at each other and screamed, “Casablanca!”

 

Jon, who had retreated to the gardens right after dinner, jumped when several high-pitched voices shrieking, “Casablanca!” stabbed his ears. He looked behind him and saw the light in one of the rooms was turned on. 

He hated to get off the path and get mud and grass on his loafers but did it anyway. Curious, he climbed up the decorative rocks and boulders and stuck his face to the window. That was when he saw them.

Margaery, her hair pulled back in a braid, clutched a large bowl to her stomach as she ate from it, squealing and stamping her feet at how Humphrey Bogart was “so dreamy.” Lollys, whom he met at dinner, was nodding as she poured champagne into her glass. Cersei, looking beautiful even with her hair loose and tousled, was bent in front of the TV, a DVD disc in her hand.   
Brienne stood apart from them. Jon’s heart softened as he watched her sink on one of the mattresses on the floor, her arms around herself. She looked young in her sky blue t-shirt and black checked pajamas. Though she quirked a smile, it was clear she was dejected and wished to be somewhere else. Jon thought that when Jaime pulled her outside with him they were going to settle things between them. It clearly didn’t happen.

_My heartkeeper,_ he thought, _if I only knew this would happen years from now I would have fought for you._

“What are you doing?” A familiar voice, annoyed yet curious asked from behind.

Gasping, Jon turned and slipped on the rocks he was standing on. He yelped as his butt landed squarely on them. “Gods,” he groaned and looked up at Sansa Stark.

The lights lining the path to the gardens had come on as soon he headed there, which made him think there were either sensors or security cameras hidden well surrounded the property. Sansa stood on the path, her auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was wearing a gray robe with blue winter roses printed on the collar, a white sweatshirt and white pajamas with pink dots on them. On her feet were fluffy, direwolf slippers, colored white and gray.

A red-blooded man, Jon appreciated the female form. The less she had on, the better. But this girl, who was staring at him with suspicion in her blue eyes and a frown on her face, wearing more clothes than he had ever seen on a woman, accelerated his heartbeat. Muttering under her breath, she got off the path and onto the grass, holding her hand out to him. Jon took it and she pulled him up, staggering a bit at his weight. 

He brushed the grass stains clinging to his suit and looked at her. “Thanks,” he said.

“It’s late. Why are you still dressed?”

He grinned. “Would you like to see me undressed? I’d be happy to show you.”

She rolled her eyes, turning towards the moonlight. It kissed her face. “You’re an ass.”

He nodded. “That is true. I’m also a jerk, rude, proudly inappropriate. Somehow, because of them, you’ve been thrown right into my arms. Again.” 

“You weren’t looking at the store and I wasn’t in your arms, you doofus,” Sansa turned to him. “I was giving you a hand.”

“Which is an extension of the arm.”

She sighed loudly then began to leave him.

“Where are you going? I thought we were talking?”

“I was talking. You were irritating,” she flung over her shoulder, easily stepping right back on the brick path. Jon followed her, the soles of his shoes skidding on the grass before he righted himself. He leaped on the path and fell into a step beside her. 

“It looks like the girls are having a party,” he told her. “They were screaming so loudly I thought it was the Red Wedding Part Deux.”

“You shouldn’t make jokes like that.”

“What? It’s history. I would call it quite an intelligent joke.”

“I lost family in that event. My great-great-great-great-ad infinitum-uncle. My brother’s named after him.”

“A bit morbid, naming somebody after a relative murdered brutally. Oh. Sorry. Wait. You’re a Stark of Winterfell? Descended from _the_ Starks of Winterfell?” Startled, Jon put a hand on her elbow and turned her to face him. “Don’t be pulling my leg, Sansa. Maybe some other body part but hopefully not too hard.”

“Why must you always insert innuendo and not just talk like a normal person?”

“Every conversation is an innuendo. Although an innuendo is not my usual approach. I’m more direct. I’m being polite.”

“If this is you polite I dread to see you. . .rude.”

He grinned. “I have a very rude tongue.”

“See!”

“I meant that I like to curse, loudly, at people who especially irritate me, which is a lot. What were _you_ thinking?” 

Sansa’s face was as pink as the shoes she had on earlier. But she hadn’t swatted his hand way. Jon was hopeful.

“In response to your question,” she said, slowly, as if talking to a child, “yes. I grew up there before moving with my father when he became headmaster at Vale Prep. I miss it. I’ve only been there once after leaving and always wanted to go back.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Some of us have to work for a living. And I’m saving for grad school.”

“If you’re a Stark, you’re rich.”

“I’m a Stark, alright. We’re taught to be self-reliant. Besides, my parents are done with my education. They offered to pay but it’s not right, what with my sister in college and another brother starting soon. I can pay my own way to grad school.”

“I live in Winterfell. I teach there, actually. In Winterfell University.”

“You’re a long way from home.”

“It is home. I didn’t have a home until Winterfell.”

“What do you mean?”

Jon debated about telling her but she was looking at him with a real need to know. That had never happened. And if he was going to know all he could about her, he should give her himself. He took a deep breath.

“I never knew my father. My mother didn’t like talking about him so I learned never to bring him up. She was a teen mother, and uh. . .she was an addict too, Sansa. I lost her when I was fourteen. I was sent to foster homes, more than I care to count and remember and I rebelled. I spent more than half my life in strangers’ homes and juvenile facilities. I did things, Sansa. Things that still haunt me.”

“You don’t have to talk about this.”

“I know. But you asked. And I’ve been a jerk to you. I know. So this is me making up for it, although I don’t know if you’ll still talk to me afterward. Things changed when I was sixteen. I discovered I liked reading. I like it a lot. I got a scholarship to Oldtown University, but I still worked. I went to night school. It took me six years to finish college. I worked for a while, like you, saved up for grad school. That’s where I met Renly and Brienne. They were the first friends I ever had. With them, I began to have an idea of home. I applied to lots of schools for a teaching position and Winterfell U gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I left before graduation. I had to. I was needed right away and there was somebody I had to get over. I stayed away except for her wedding and when her sons turned one. I don’t love her like that anymore, thank the gods, and now I’m here, with her, to celebrate her husband’s birthday tomorrow. I don’t know if I’m enjoying my stay here yet but I met you. I got here last night, thinking how I couldn’t wait to leave, and then I met you and now I can’t imagine going back, not this soon. And I have nice house in Winterfell. I was loathed to leave it. Now I can’t. . .I can’t see myself heading back there anytime soon.”

As he was talking, his hand had drifted from her elbow to her soft, warm hand. Now he looked down and saw they were tightly joined. Though she was taller, her fingers were more slender, her palm small. It felt like a fragile little dove. 

“Those aren’t things you say to someone you’ve known for less than twenty-four hours,” Sansa told him after a while. She too was looking at their hands. 

He smiled. “I’ve known of you for only six hours. But I can say I’ve never felt anything like the way I feel about you.”

He watched her lips move but make no sound. “Sansa?” he asked.

She met his eyes, round, clear blue staring into soft gray. “Me too.” 

“That’s a relief to hear.”

“You loved Brienne?” She asked.

“Was it love or infatuation? Her happiness with Jaime was a lot more important than my finding out. But she’s out of my life in that aspect.” He was serious. “I swear to you, Sansa. She’s only a friend.”

“No. I don’t reproach you, nor am I troubled with how you felt with my employer. I can understand it. I see how Brienne is. She brings light into any room. It’s what draws people. Please believe me.” 

“I do.”

“Uh, would you like to go inside? It’s getting cold.”

“I noticed. Yes, seems like a good idea.”

He tucked her hand in his arm and they walked, slowly. Then he said, “I won’t be keeping normal hours, it looks like. I’m wide awake. Would you. . .would you mind keeping me company?”

Her smile was the gentle brilliance of the moon. “I thought we could hang out at the kitchen.”

 

“My heart is a puddle _everytime_ I hear that song,” Cersei said. Her head rested on Brienne’s shoulder while she ate the twizzlers from the bowl on their laps. The scene shown to them was Humphrey Bogart berating Sam the piano player for playing As Time Goes By. 

“He loves her so much,” Lollys agreed. Her head was on Brienne’s other shoulder.

Margaery, who had gone through the potato chips, had moved on to a box of Ferrero Rocher. “He loved her so much he let her go.”

“Why the fuck are we watching this? This is a miserable movie,” Brienne told them. “They don’t end up together. Who knows if they see each other again. I can’t, I’m sorry, but I have no appreciation for romance that’s unfulfilled!”

Unperturbed, Cersei snapped a twizzler in half. “I thought you’re the lit major here, Brienne. You of all people should appreciate romance.”

“Not if it breaks your heart and you’re destroyed forever. You think they were able to move on? Live as they should? They’re destroyed. He should have gotten her back. She wanted him to take her back!” 

Growling under her breath, she shot to her feet, dislodging Cersei and Lollys, who protested loudly. Brienne turned off the TV. 

Margaery popped a candy in her mouth and looked at Brienne.

“What is going on with you?” she asked.

“Nothing is going on with me. I just don’t like this movie. Don’t you have Black Hawk Down? Kingdom of Heaven?” Brienne demanded over her shoulder as she opened the cabinet under the TV, looking for those movies. Her hands moved jerkily through the titles. “This isn’t alphabetical! How do you find anything in here!”

“They’re arranged according to genre and then alphabetized. Supposedly. You think any of the staff will bother to alphabetize? As long as we stick them back in there they’re untouched,” Cersei said, picking up the twizzlers scattered on the bed. “Brienne, stop. Come on. We don’t have to watch a movie. We can just talk.”

Brienne shut the cabinet with a slam and moved on to the next. “I’m through talking.  
”  
“You know, all you’ve done so far is listen to us whine and then run off,” Cersei continued. “It’s your turn to whine and make us feel less terrible for being the weak hens we are.”

Lollys crawled to her feet. “I can use more champagne.”

As she stomped to the long table, Cersei and Margaery watched Brienne shut the cabinet and let out a loud sigh.

“I’m not the only one who thinks she may be pregnant,” Cersei said. “Margaery here thinks she is too.”

Brienne looked at them, frowning. “Both of you?”

“Well, we don’t know,” Margaery shrugged. “Being as my pregnancy test is in the bottom of your trash in your bathroom.”

“What’s it doing in my bathroom? Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“Mine too,” Cersei whispered. Margaery looked at her, realizing just now what Cersei meant earlier.

“The fuck?” She said.

“I understand you two not being sure, hence why you’re skipping this glorious champagne,” Lollys said, pouring more champagne into her glass. She held it to Brienne. “You’re not. You should drink with me.”

“I don’t drink, Lollys. Thank you.”

“But you’re not pregnant!” Lollys whined.

Brienne flinched and a dark red flush spread from her forehead down to her neck. Margaery jumped to her feet, dumping the chocolates on Cersei’s lap as she did. Her brown eyes wild, she jabbed a manicured finger in her direction.

“Ha! You think you’re pregnant too!”


	20. Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls lay their hearts out on the table. Jaime and Tyrion talk.

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing know nothing.

 

In her shock, Lollys dropped the glass. Brienne’s quick reflexes saved it from shattering on the floor into a sticky, dangerous mess. Some champagne still slopped to her feet as Lollys had filled it to the brim. As Brienne put it back on the table, Cersei rose to her feet, graceful despite the mattress under her feet.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Or any of us? Brienne, I went to you last night, I confessed to you and you just let me prattle on. How could you not tell me?” Cersei said, going to her.

“I don’t want to add on to your problems. And I don’t want to talk. I’ve been talking all day, and thinking, with Jaime, about Jaime. It makes me want to bash my head against the wall,” Brienne exploded, stomping back to the mattress and dropping hard on it, ignoring the twizzlers and chocolate scattered around her. “And thanks a lot for using my bathroom for your tests. You didn’t have to ask my permission—well, you did, Cersei—but Margaery, next time, again, don’t bother.”

“Don’t blame Margaery,” Lollys said, getting the glass Brienne had put there. “I was with her. I was the lookout!” she added proudly.

“If you think you’re pregnant why do you act as if the Stranger’s come for you?” Margaery asked. “Tyrion and I never talked about having children. I want his child. But I don’t know if he wants any with me. He’s a stupid, fucking idiot—I’m sorry, Cersei, I know he’s your brother—but he thinks so little of himself and I don’t know if I can spend the rest of my life propping him up, having to reassure him all the time I see him as a man and his being a dwarf is part of it. You, Brienne, on the other hand, you’re with the man you love, who’s as mad for you as you are for him, the father of your children.”

Brienne rested her elbows on the shelf her curled up knees made. She put her chin on them.

“I’m afraid of losing my child, if I’m pregnant.” Cersei said, so softly but in the quiet of the room, her voice was clear. At Lollys’ and Margaery’s curious looks, she added, hugging herself. “I’ve miscarried before. Twice. The older I get . . .” she shook her head, unable to finish.

“So Robert doesn’t know?” Margaery asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“The men in our lives have no idea,” Cersei answered. “I can’t go to Robert until I’m sure and if—if I’m pregnant, he’s going to be as afraid as I am. I don’t think I can see him lose another child.”

“What makes you so sure you’ll lose this one?’ Brienne wanted to know. “I know you told me, but why do you have so little faith in your child?”

“Why doesn’t Jaime know you might be with one?”

Brienne buried her face in her hands. “Oh gods, I’m a horrible excuse for a human being.”

“Brienne,” Margaery cried out, going to her. She sat beside her and put her arms around her. “What brought this on? You’ve been carrying a lot on your shoulders the last twenty-four hours. Why don’t you tell us what’s really wrong? Maybe we can help. We’d like to help.” 

Cersei sat down next so she and Margaery flanked Brienne. Lollys sat at the foot of the mattress and started helping herself to the chocolate and twizzlers in between drinking.

Gently, she brushed a lock of Brienne’s straw-blond hair behind her ear. “We’re your friends, Brienne.” 

It took another while, with them just looking at the huddled form of this great, big, strong woman before she told them about her fight with Jaime, the things he said, how she had just realized that her husband didn’t see her for the person she’d become, that she felt like she’d been relegated to a whore with the way he treated her. As she fought to contain her tears, she continued that she couldn’t be with someone who did not appreciate her, who seemed to love her only in words and not actions. That it was too soon, too soon for another child. That she would like another, if possible, but not this time. It was too soon. And she was terrified that she was pregnant because she was late and it had never happened before. She hated herself, hated, really hated herself, for not wanting a child now. 

After her outburst, the three other women digested her words. It was a situation they had little or no experience in. 

Lollys, who had stopped drinking, said. “We need to know. Margaery, Cersei, Brienne, I think before we do anything, we need to know if you’re pregnant. That’s what’s got you all in this mess. The uncertainty. Like, you, Margaery, if you’re pregnant, what do you intend to do next?”

“Tell Tyrion,” was her quick reply. “And if he doesn’t want it, I’m still going to keep it. I’m the idiot who will still love him.”

“And if you’re not?”

“Tell Tyrion that I love him and he’s going to have trust that I want a complete life with him. With children.” 

“What about you, Cersei?”

“Go to Robert. Give him the news.”

“And if there’s no child?”

Despite the worry in her face, a small smile touched her lips. “Afraid as I am, I’d like to work on having another. I know he wants more children.” 

Lollys met Brienne’s eyes. “Brienne? If you’re pregnant, what happens next?”

“I’ll go to Jaime. Tell him. Everything. Insist we keep working on our marriage.”

“And if you’re not?”

“Go to Jaime. Tell him. Everything. Insist we keep on working on our marriage.”

“Well,” Lollys said, looking at them. “You know what to do. So all that needs to be done is see if you’re carrying another litter of Lannisters. Margaery, we had Pod buy every pregnancy test, where are they?”

Margaery looked like she wanted to kick herself. “They’re in my room. Under my pillow. And Tyrion’s a light sleeper. A whisper would wake him.”

“I have a pack,” Brienne said. “It’s under the sink in my bathroom—Cersei, did you put it back there?”

Cersei paled. “Fuck. I didn’t.”

“Where is it?”

 

After Brienne left, Jaime went to check on his sons. He sat between their cribs, watching them sleep. It gave him some semblance of peace, knowing his sons were safe and sleeping, dreaming the sweetest dreams. He could spend the rest of his life watching them like this, cocooned and never knowing the hurt he carried in his heart and dragged at his soul.

Ty woke up, gurgling. In the dark, Jaime saw him smile. Ty squirmed and giggled and Jaime couldn’t help but smile back before pulling him in his arms. “Oof, you’re heavy,” he said, pretending to groan. “You’re so big,”

Ty was making hissing sounds and Jaime listened hard, frowning when the little boy said something that sounded like, “Ass.”  
“Interesting vocabulary you have there,” he murmured, sitting on the rocking chair. Ty rested on his chest. “Where’d you learn that, hmm? Your mother?”

Ty, his eyes bright as sapphires like his mother’s when she looked lovingly at Jaime, laughed and said, a little louder, “Fuck!”  
Jaime was stunned. “Where’d you learn that?”

He glanced at Drew’s crib. Drew was fast asleep, much like his mother who could sleep through a parade. Shaking his head, Jaime got up from the rocking chair and went to their bedroom. He couldn’t risk Ty waking up Drew or worse, Drew mimicking his brother.  
He put Ty on the bed and got some toys from the bag Brienne had stored under the bed. The bright colors of the toys distracted Drew. Soon, his new vocabulary was forgotten, replaced by the usual, “Momma,” “red” and “Da!” Jaime smiled at that. He knew it was short for Dad.

They were playing, with Jaime yawning and Drew getting more active through the night. Jaime shook a stuffed little dolphin. As he did this, someone knocked on the door.

“Come in!” he said as Ty grabbed the dolphin from his hands. Jaime looked behind him and saw Tyrion leaning against the door, a bottle of scotch in one hand and two glasses in the other.

“I thought you might join me but it looks like I’ve interrupted domestic bliss,” Tyrion said, pushing himself off the frame and walking towards the nightstand to set the bottle and the glasses there.

“You’re not drinking in my room and I’m not joining you,” Jaime said. “Why not ask Bronn?”

“Reading, would you believe. Shooed me out, the bastard.”

“What about Renly?”

“He’s not in his room.”

“Jon. You like Jon.”

“Not in his room either.”

Jaime looked at Tyrion, who shrugged. 

“So you see, brother. I’ve crossed out every name in the list. I’d pick Margaery but she’s off to some pajama party with the ladies. The men are not in a partying mood, looks like,” Tryion said.

“Nice that I made the shortlist,” Jaime told him drily. Ty handed the dolphin to him and he took it. The boy squealed and reached for the toy. That was his game. Give it to Jaime, get it back, give it, then back.

“Have you fixed things with Brienne?”

“I’m not going to get drunk to answer that.”

“So answer it now.”

“That’s none of your business. Did father send you?”

“I have a feeling father already knows exactly what’s going on with you two. Isn’t curious that he hasn’t pulled you aside for a talk? Or Brienne.”

“You saw him with me early this morning.”

“Nah, that wasn’t it. With father, a talk is in that huge, dark office of his, with all that blood-red furniture. With threats! Our family’s too obsessed with that color.” 

Tyrion pushed himself up on a window seat, his short legs stretched out before him. In spite being quite inebriated, his mismatched eyes missed nothing as they regarded his brother, who continued playing with his son. He looked at the boy and for a few seconds, allowed himself to dream. 

“Margaery thinks I don’t love her.”

“That’s silly.” Jaime glanced at him. “You do love her, right? Else you’re wasting your time. You’ve been together for more than a year.”

“She thinks I don’t love her because I’ve never talked to her about children.”

“So? Brienne and I didn’t talk about children for a long time. And it wasn’t like, what would we name them, and how they’d be. It just happened.” Jaime shrugged. “It was more along the lines of someday, we should try. But nothing was set in stone right away. One minute we were planning and the next she was pregnant.”

“Actually, it surprised me you didn’t knock her up right away. You look like you want to eat her up. Even when you’re feeling shit you still look like you want to gobble her up like the sweetest candy.”

Jaime flushed but he said sternly, “I don’t want us talking about my wife like this.”

“I apologize.”

“Besides, if I intentionally got her pregnant, like messed with her pills or poked holes in the condom, she’ll never forgive me. I would never force her into anything she doesn’t want or doesn’t know she wants.” 

“That’s not what happened last night, I heard.”

“Seven hells. Father spoke to you.”

Tyrion shrugged. 

“When did this happen? Where?”

“Do the logistics of that conversation matter more than what he told me to tell you?” When Jaime didn’t answer, Tyrion continued. “He told me to let you know that while he supports you, believe it or not, you’re going to have to respect your wife’s wishes and do whatever she asks of you, no matter how you hate it. There. That was the extent of it. He didn’t give me scotch, however. He summoned me while going through paperwork. Squeezed between contract signings. Maybe it’s because of my size.” 

“Odd that he didn’t tell me himself,” Jaime said, closing his eyes as Ty pressed the dolphin to his face. He took the toy and pressed it to Ty’s chubby-cheeked face. He closed his eyes too.

“That I don’t have the answer,” Tyrion told him, spreading his palms open.

“This is a private affair between me and my wife,” Jaime said. “I would appreciate if that is not forgotten.” 

“Done.”

Tyrion continued to watch father and son interact.

“You’re good with your sons, Jaime.”

“I wouldn’t know that. But thank you.” He looked at Tyrion. “So never? With Margaery? You never talked about having children?”

“Look at me. Should I?”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Deformities, conditions, they can be passed.”

“So what if they are? Would you throw your children off into the sea if they are?”

“I wonder how life would be if I had been born before this time, when tolerance for monsters such as myself was unthinkable.”  
“Pointless to speculate on something that did not happen. A monster, you say? Well then, you are a good-looking one.”

Tyrion’s grin was sardonic. “Thank you.”

“Tyrion,” Jaime’s tone was suddenly serious. “You can’t close yourself to something you deserve because of fear. It will hurt you and those you love.”

“Cersei said something like that,” Tyrion mused. “Margaery called me an idiot.”

Jaime nodded. “She does love you.”

“One of the greatest mysteries of the world.” But Tyrion didn’t sound so dejected anymore. 

“I’ll go get myself some water. Would you watch him?” Jaime asked, making a border with his arms around Ty, who was pulling and shaking at the dolphin. Tyrion leaped off his seat and crawled up the bed. He kicked off his shoes and started playing with his nephew.

Jaime went to the bathroom. He opened the medicine cabinet where he knew some glasses were store. Getting one, he strode to the sink, filled it half-full and drank the water. As he lowered his head after drinking, he frowned at something he saw in the mirror. Resting on the shelf of the toilet was a brown paper bag. A familiar pink-and-white box peeked out. He had seen that before but couldn’t identify what it was. 

He set the glass down and approached the toilet. He picked up the package and took the slim, rectangular carton from it. Mommy Or Not, its swirling, curling script said. Underneath were the words, “99 % Accurate!”

“What?” He murmured, too shocked to say anything more. The carton was open. His breath locked in throat. Someone had used it.

 _Brienne_ had used it. 

He slammed the carton back on the shelf of the toilet and it seemed a little voice had whispered to him where to look next. Without hesitating, he turned over the garbage bin with a slight kick and watched as a tangle of toilet paper tumbled out, along with three pregnancy sticks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! He found the pregnancy tests!


	21. Panic! In the Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sort-of race for the pregnancy tests.  
> Jaime and Brienne talk.

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing and know nothing. 

 

As soon as Cersei realized her blunder, Brienne took off, moving as fast as her backless slippers could carry her. Margaery followed her, not knowing exactly why but sensing something important was about to happen. It took a few seconds for Cersei to get over her shock to follow the two women. Lollys, feeling woozy, was flat on her back on the mattress and yawning.

Brienne cursed the size of Casterly Rock. Fucking huge, fucking fancy, fucking crammed with precious antiques and expensive knick-knacks and other pieces that were priceless. She pumped her arms, opting to speed-walk rather than run. Margaery was huffing beside her. She was jogging and had her hands wrapped around her stomach. Taking pity on her, Brienne forced herself to slow down. This gave Cersei ample time to catch up.

“Where are we going?” Margaery asked as Brienne started going ahead of her again.

“My room! What do you think will happen when Jaime finds the test?” Brienne exclaimed. “Will you hurry!”

“I should be careful! I might be with child!” Margaery snapped.

“I’m so sorry, Brienne.” Cersei sounded like she was going to cry.

“Toughen up, Cersei. Your tears will not speed us up. _Why is your house so huge_?” Brienne complained.

“I’m sorry!” Cersei wailed.

Finally, Brienne saw the curving grand staircase. She heaved herself up, taking two steps at a time. Margaery called for her to slow down but she continued walking fast rather than jogging. Cersei’s face was pinker than her sweatshirt.

Brienne was soon standing outside her door. She flung it open and gasped, “Tyrion! What are you doing in my room? Where’s Jaime?”

“Tyrion?” Margaery called from downstairs. She was just beginning to climb up. “Why’s he in your room?”

“Oh gods,” Cersei groaned. “Kill me now.” 

Tyrion opened his mouth to answer but he looked to Brienne’s right. She turned.

Jaime stood before her, looking grim and three pregnancy sticks in his hands.

“Jaime,” Brienne went to him, “I can explain.”

“Tyrion, please leave us.” Jaime said just as Margaery burst in.

“Tyrion?” Margaery was confused. Then she saw what Jaime held and she paled. “Um, Jaime, there is a good, a really good explanation for that—“

“Some other time, Miss Tyrell,” Tyrion said, slipping off the bed. He picked up Ty. “Let’s practice what little parenting skill we have with this one. Come on.”

“Wait, you’re not taking—“ Brienne started to say when Cersei skidded into the room. Her green eyes were wide when she saw Jaime and the sticks.

“I can explain that, Jaime—“

“Please,” Jaime let out a long-suffering sigh, “I need to speak with my wife. Privately.”

“But you don’t understand—“ Margaery said, stopping when Tyrion held out Ty to her. Automatically, her arms went around the little boy. Tyrion tugged at the edge of her shirt. “Come along, Miss Tyrell. Cersei, if you could join us.”

“Seriously, there’s a perfectly good explanation why it’s that many—“ But Tyrion grabbed Cersei by the elbow and pulled her behind him. Margaery, distracted by Ty, began to coo at him as she followed them out. Before closing the door behind her, she turned to Jaime and Brienne.

“Be gentle.” 

As soon as the door closed, Jaime ran his fingers through his hair. “Seven hells, was I really that loud last night?” When Brienne didn’t answer, he let out another sigh and looked at her before putting the sticks on the nightstand. “Wife, I am sorry. I’m so sorry for what I said. I’m so sorry for not treating you right. I’m so sorry for not giving you the respect and love you deserve. I’m so sorry for making you afraid and I’m going to be the sorry for the rest of my life that you couldn’t trust me enough to tell me about those. I have failed you. I don’t know what I’ll do, I don’t want know what can be done but if you tell me I’ll do it. Anything to get you back. I don’t even have to touch you. It would kill me but if I could—if you could look at me again with those astonishing eyes of yours without hating me I will live. I’ll take that over you not hating me anymore though yes, I deserve it. Your anger. The pain of my regret. Everything bad for not respecting and appreciating you. But for the love of the Seven, I beg you, please, please, don’t leave me.” 

As he spoke, he began to kneel on the floor. Brienne thought this unacceptable and started to pull him up but he shook his head.

“No, Brienne. You told me not to touch you. So I won’t. I won’t, not until you tell me to.” 

He was looking at the floor when said these words. Brienne, biting her lip, fell on her knees in front of him. Jaime whimpered as she placed her hand on his stubbled cheek. 

“I never asked you to get on your knees or hurt yourself, Jaime,” she told him.

“I did it because you would never,” he told her, leaning into her hand. He closed his eyes. “Gods. If the Seven will be merciful and give me only your hand on my cheek for the rest of my life I accept.” 

His eyes still closed, he didn’t see when Brienne bent her head to his. He gasped as her dry, full lips touched his own, lightly, unsure. His face scrunched as if in pain as her other hand touched went up his shoulder, her heat burning through his clothes. Jaime’s hands curled into fists, barely restraining himself from touching her. Violent tremors overtook his body at the effort. 

All too soon, Brienne was pulling away. His eyes opened, shadowed and tearful. “No,” he groaned, but his fists tightened even more.  
He breathed in the scent of her vanilla shampoo, the hint of cool moonlight from the arc between her ear and shoulder as she reached for his hands and pried them open. Her strong fingers slipped between his and she began to rise. “Jaime, let’s go talk.”

She began to lead him to the bed but he shook his head. “No. I have very little control and you’re touching me, Brienne. Take me somewhere else. A place where not every surface is a temptation to break my promise to you. _Please._ ”

“The terrace?”

“With those lounge chairs? My choice of which lounge chair?” Jaime shook his head.

“The kitchen.”

“If I can take you in our tiny kitchen, what’s to stop me from trying out that huge counter? What’s to stop me from reliving our first time now that you’re touching me?”

Brienne frowned. “Is _that_ how your mind works? Every place is a chance—“

“That’s what I’m trying to change, Brienne. I’m trying to prove to you that I don’t. . .I don’t. . .I will treat you better. I will treat you like the wife you are, the wonderful, amazing person that you are who, strangely, chose me, when you deserve so much better. A lot better.”

In the end, she brought him to the hallway leading to Tywin’s office. The empty knights on display and all the weapons used in wars the Lannisters fought in was the most appropriate place right now. Jaime looked relieved.

Still holding him by the hand, Brienne turned to him.

Her eyes were so blue, searching, softened yet still edged with worry and mistrust. Jaime took the force of her stare without flinching. 

“Jaime, I don’t know where to begin,” she confessed.

“Take as long as you need,” he told her. “I will wait forever, if need be.”

“In this gruesome hallway?”

“I won’t be breaking my promise to you here. If I can do it here, I can do it anywhere. Believe it.”

He let out a breath when she suddenly kissed his hand, her lips mashing against his cut knuckles. 

“Of course, if you keep doing that, the wait would be easier.” There was no mirth in his voice, however.

“Alright. Here goes,” Brienne said after a few minutes. She still held his hand. “I lied to you. The other night.”

He nodded.

“Jaime, um. . .fuck, this is harder than I thought.”

He didn’t say anything but did incline his head that she go on, whenever she can.

“I’m late. Five days now. The only time that’s happened is when I discovered I was pregnant with Ty and Drew.”

Jaime’s hand tightened in hers. “So. . .the tests?”

“One of them is mine. And I don’t know if I am. You, uh, interrupted me. Before dinner. That’s why I went back to the bathroom to get rid of it. Of course, you still found it. I was going to tell you. . .I wanted to be sure first if there was something or nothing because I did not want you worrying. I certainly don’t want to disappoint you if it’s a false alarm. But I guess that won’t matter with what I have to say next. You’re going to be disappointed, Jaime, but I love you, that’s why I’m risking being this honest with you. Trusting that you will still love me. And you did tell me you love me but. . .I don’t know. After what I tell you, I don’t know. Or maybe I know but I’m too blind to see it.”

“Whatever it is, Brienne, you have my word that I will not be disappointed nor love you less. You will never disappoint me. _Never._ And I love you more—everyday I love you more that I’m left speechless with how I love you more. Trust me. Please.”

Brienne shivered, remembering how she’d spoken similar words to him the night she told him she was pregnant.

“I would like more children with you, Jaime. But someday. I know Ty and Drew are older and they’ll be two in a few months but when we have children again. . .I don’t want another so soon. Look at our lives, Jaime. We’re progressing in our careers and somehow, so far, we’ve not messed up Ty and Drew but I feel . . .it’s too much. I can’t take on another child now. It’s shameful—“

“What? _No!_ Brienne—“

“But I’m a mother. Shouldn’t another child make me happy no matter when it comes? Because, Jaime, if I’m pregnant now, I admit I will have a hard time accepting it. I will not love it right away. I don’t know but I think that’s what I’ll be doing if I am, right now, and I hate myself for it.”

He shook his head. “Don’t. Never hate yourself for being honest, Brienne. Swear it. Swear it to me.”

Her eyes were big, round sapphire pools. “I swear,” she whispered.

“Good.”

“That’s why. . .that’s why I couldn’t. . .Jaime, the other night, that awful, awful night. I was so scared and worried being pregnant and then you were talking about keeping me leashed and about my breasts and it just set me off. I was _so_ angry with you and then you went after me . . .I told you I wanted to make you bleed, right? I don’t regret saying that, Jaime. You just asked me to swear to not hate myself for being honest. I’ve been hating myself for wanting to hurt you.” 

“I deserve it.”

“You know I don’t believe in fighting pain with pain.”

Then she leaned her forehead against his. She closed her eyes as her warm breath fanned his cheeks. Jaime inhaled deeply.

“Is that it?”

“Jaime, there are things going on in our marriage that need work. It won’t be fixed today or tomorrow.”

“No, it won’t,” he agreed. “There are things that need improvement. I know that now.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t touch me. I’m lifting the ban,” she whispered against his cheek. 

“What?”

“Jaime?” She kissed him on the cheek, his temple, his eyelids. “ _Touch me_. Please, touch me _now._ ”

“Before that happens,” he said, drawing out his torture some more, “I also have things to say. I hope, I really hope you won’t hate me even more although you are in the right should you do so.”

She nodded. “Okay. Tell me now.”

“Brienne, I won’t deny that when I look at you I want you so much. That I . . .end up hurting you. Not giving you the respect and. . .appreciation you deserve. I don’t know if it’s a problem, wanting your wife so much and too much all the time. But know that this is one of the things I’d like to work on. I don’t hate myself for wanting you so consumingly but I hate that you’ve suffered because of it. Again, I’m sorry. I will never stop being sorry. I swear to never hurt you again, intentionally, I swear to never. . .talk to you like that again. Replaying it in my mind, I find it hard to believe that you didn’t punch my eyes out. I swear to you I won’t talk nor treat you like that again. _Gods, your touch feels so good,_ ” he groaned when she put her hands on his shoulders.

“Is there more?”

“Brienne. . .I don’t. . .I would like more children with you. But someday. Ty and Drew are great, but you’re right. There’s so much going on with our careers and then each other and then we’re raising children. . .should another child come along right now, we’re going to be spread too thin. He or she deserves better than that. But, since we can’t really choose the time, if there’s a little cub living inside you now, I will love it. And I won’t hate you nor think less of you for struggling to love it. You will, in your own time. I will love it and I will love you, no matter what. That’s the truth. I swear it.” 

“Jaime,” Brienne breathed, and her arms went around him. Allowed now, his own arms wrapped around her waist and held her close. Jaime buried his face in her shoulder as their hearts beat against each other’s chest. 

“ _My wife,_ ” he said softly. He pulled her closer, wanting to feel her warmth, her strength. “ _My life._ ” 

They stood there, held tightly to each other for a while. Time stood still if not the deepening chill of the evening as the temperature dropped further. Burrowing his face deeper in her shoulder, he asked, “Just one question.”

“What is it, husband?”

“Why are there three pregnancy tests in the trash?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take the title style from Panic! at the Disco.


	22. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse of our favorite couples in another morning after.

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I know nothing and own nothing. 

 

As soon as the sun rose, Margaery slipped off the bed, careful not to disturb Ty. The baby had slept between her and Tyrion, his eyes falling closed as soon as they brought him to their room. This forced them into a hushed conversation and Margaery was glad for that. She worried about being still too volatile and yelling at Tyrion. As it happened, he had done most of the talking, confessing to her his deepest fears. Through every word, she held his hand, her eyes never leaving his face, looking at him hungrily because she did not want to forget that this was the night their relationship took a more serious turn. It was a while before she could speak and when she did, she poured her heart into it, but also reminded Tyrion that he was not to look to her for assurance that he was a great man, a most exemplary human being. She would support him but he was going to have to accept what he was and love it, as she did, every inch.

She smiled, torn between going to the bathroom for the task she needed done and just watching Tyrion sleep, his blond hair ruffled, his breathing deep. At some time during the night, he had flung his arm around Ty’s stomach. 

Feeling a little regretful, Margaery headed for the bathroom, a package in her hand. She read the instructions again, just to be sure and sat on the toilet. She aimed the stick under to catch her pee mid-stream, keeping it there until she finished. Then she stood up, put the stick by the sink and waited. 

 

With the weight off her shoulders, Brienne felt light and happy for the first time since arriving at Casterly Rock. It had been most difficult to sleep and she would wake after drifting off for a few minutes. It was fitful yet she felt energized, as if the sun was in her heart as she watched Jaime sleep beside her.

She had expected him to take her to bed and make love to her when she told him he could touch her, _finally_. Jaime surprised her by yes, taking her to bed, but he did not remove any of her clothes. When he touched her on the stomach his hand did not slip under her shirt or under the waistband of her pajamas. 

Instead, he lay beside her, his chin propped up by one hand while the other caressed her cheek, her shoulder, the slight dip at her thick waist. He reached for her hand and pressed it to his lips, kissing every finger but did not take any of them in his mouth and sucked, as she knew he liked to do. When he lay his head next to hers, he told her about his favorite things about her, about the mundane things she did that took his breath away. He told her she made him proud every day, that every day he was in awe of her love and marvelled that he could love somebody so much. He fell asleep telling her about the time he saw her fast asleep on the sofa with their babies, that it had become his favorite thing to think about when he was away from home. 

She watched him sleep, gently brushing his golden hair away from his face, tapping lightly the tip of his elegant, aquiline nose. She traced a finger on his high cheekbones and chiselled jaw but Jaime slept on. To think he was the light sleeper between them.

She was glad he hadn’t yanked off her clothes as was his usual M.O. when they got within three feet of a comfortable flat surface. Oh, she wouldn’t mind if he made love to her but that wasn’t the intimacy and caring she wanted right now. Jaime too, else he wouldn’t have kept his touches so innocent and when was the last time he’d touched her like that? Probably never. With Jaime Lannister, innocent touches were unthinkable until last night.

She swung her legs to the side of the bed and got up, stretching briefly. A peek into Drew's crib showed him still fast asleep, his face pressed into the pillow like his father liked to do. Smiling, Brienne went to the bathroom to wash her face.

 

A snapping sound hit the air, followed by the sound of rain but Sansa thought it too soft. Frowning, her eyes fluttered open. Gods, the sun was right in her eyes and her bed was too hard. Wincing, she turned her back. Her mouth fell open when a cloudless blue sky greeted her, rather than the white ceiling in the guest bedroom. She sat up and realized that she was in one of the lounge chairs out in the patio. The soft rush of water was the sound of sprinklers switched on, bathing the grass. 

And snoring on the lounge chair next to her was Jon Snow. 

She remembered they went to the kitchen. Once there, they raided the fridge, helping themselves to various leftovers they found. Jon found a package of cold cuts and proceeded to make her a sandwich, consisting of peppery pastrami, mayonnaise, mustard, tomatoes and Swiss cheese. Sansa didn’t take a bite of hers until he finished making his own. It was delicious. It was the best sandwich she ever had.

They continued to raid food from the cupboards, eating them, talking. She told him that beginning this fall she would be applying to graduate schools. Her savings were close to paying for her tuition and living expenses though she hoped a scholarship would help her, and of course, she pretty much expected to keep working. They were eating cream puffs as she told him this. He asked her what she planned on studying and she mentioned economics, with a concentration on developing more feeding programs to give schoolchildren access to more nutritious food, and possibly educating parents how to incorporate nutrient-rich vegetables into meals without risking war on the dining table. Jon then proceeded to ask her more questions, about which graduate programs interested her (“Winterfell, but there’s also a good one at Qarth,” she confessed, though she was loathed to leave family behind if she went to the latter). She asked him about his house in the north (“A massive, gray manse, where the previous owner had planted lots of herbs but also winter roses, they are the biggest blooms there, I swear to you”). Then they moved their talk outside. Cold as it was, Sansa was used to it and Jon, in his five years there, had developed a higher tolerance for low temperatures.

He told her he slept in the nude, even in winter.

Sansa, frowning to block images of his nude body spread on furs, snapped, “I was just beginning to like you, Jon.”

He grinned. “You’ll like me better naked.”

“Shut up. You’re not as good-looking as you think.”

“I know. But can I help it if you think so?”

“You’re impossible!”

“But you still want to talk. So come on. Let’s talk some more. I certainly do.” 

She had no idea when they fell asleep. Her jaw was stiff and her throat felt dry and raw. Swallowing, and making a face when she felt the crusty bits of saliva on the side of her mouth, she turned to Jon. She wiped the back of her hand on her mouth.

“Jon,” she called to him, softly. “Jon. Wake up.” 

He groaned and turned away. Sighing, Sansa went to his lounge chair and shook him on the shoulder “Jon, we fell asleep outside. We can’t be found like this. You have to get up.”

“I’m sleeping,” he whined. “ _You get up._ ”

“I am up. Come on. Let’s go.” She shook him harder. 

He opened his eyes. He frowned when the sun burned right into them. Sansa sat by his legs as he heaved himself up to a sitting position. His hair was messier than ever and his suit a mass of wrinkles. Yet, he had never been more attractive than now, Sansa thought. 

“So. We slept together,” Jon said, rubbing his eyes. 

“Idiot. We did not sleep together. We fell asleep together, that’s all. Let’s get you dressed up. You look like a goon.”

He grinned at her. “But you don’t think so.”

“Jon, please. I’m . . .if Tywin Lannister catches us like this . .look, I like my job with Jaime and Brienne. I’m not ashamed but this is. . .not seemly. For a nanny. And personally.” 

She stood up and offered him a hand. He took it and soon, he was standing beside her, yawning loudly and rudely. Sansa wrinkled her nose when his dry breath hit her full blast on the face.

“I think I’m going to spend the rest of the day sleeping,” he told her as they headed back to the house. “Will you read me a story? Tuck me to bed?”

“If you guarantee I can smother you with a pillow, I’d be more than happy to.” 

“Being that it is my first time to just sleep with a woman, you’ve got a deal. But try not to kill me when you do. By the way, your hair looks like a crow's nest. But a pretty crow's nest.” 

 

Lyra was still sleeping so Bronn thought to go downstairs and check on his wife. The butler, Podrick, who was already up and immaculately dressed in his blood-red and gray suit, pointed him in the direction of the library. 

Bronn knocked on the door first before pushing it open. He frowned.

A couple bowls were empty but, as he strode further in, half the champagne bottles were empty. “Some party this was for sure,” he muttered, expecting to see his wife and her friends in a drunken sprawl on the mattresses on the floor. 

What he saw was his wife, a blanket drawn tight to her shoulders. She was alone in the wide feather mattress. She was snoring.  
There were chocolates and other bits of food littered around her. Bronn looked around. Where were the others? Why was his wife alone? From the looks of things, they had been gone for a while. 

Did his wife drink all those champagne by herself?

Bronn sighed, looked up at the ceiling then back to his wife. He went outside, found Podrick and requested a bucket. 

 

A squeal from the bathroom snatched Robert from the deep sleep he was enjoying. Shaking off his disorientation, he limped, cursing that he wasn’t going as fast as he wanted toward the source of the sound. When he reached the door, it suddenly swept wide open.  
Cersei, her cheeks as pink as the sweatshirt she wore, was looking at him with wild green eyes and a grin that was almost feral.

Robert, frowning, asked, “Is something wrong? Did you just get back in? Why aren’t you with the—“

"Please don't be mad at me," Cersei said, suddenly hugging him tight. His arms instantly went around her.

"What's going on?"

She pulled away but continued to hold him. Looking into his eys, she spoke with a shaky voice. "Robert, there's something I didn't do. I couldn't, I really couldn't go through with it. I lied. I'm so sorry, my heart. But...I couldn't bear not to have another child with you. That because of _me_ there couldn't be anyone else like you."

Confused, he asked, " What are you talking about?"

She took a deep breath. "I didn't go through with the surgery."

"Cersei."

"I'm so sorry for lying. Gods. I want more children with _you_ but I regret deceiving you. And I know what this could mean because I shouldn't...the risks..." She couldn't continue. She sank in his chest.

Then he put his arms around her again. "You know I love you." 

"Robert, I'm very sorry."

"So you lied. I should be upset. But I know how it hurt you so I thought. . .I couldn't have you hurt like that again so I agreed but you should have told me."

"I know," she whispered against his shirt.

"But I can't be upset. Not when it means it's having more like you."

Robert lowered his head and kissed her.

“My heart,” Cersei declared before suddenly throwing her arms around his shoulders and jumping, her legs wrapping around his waist. Gasping, Robert quickly held her, ignoring the pain that sprang from his ankle at the sudden weight he put on it. He forgot all about it when Cersei kissed him on the mouth, sucking at his lips. Then, just as quickly, she was pulling away but she continued to hold on to his shoulders.

“Look what I got for my birthday,” she said, and showed him the stick. The end was a bright pink positive sign. Understanding, Robert grinned and pulled her close for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited for the party.  
> "I know. But can I help it if you think so?"--comes from Erich Segal's Love Story.


	23. King and Cubs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tywin watches over the twins.   
> And someone gets caught with a hand in the cookie jar. So to speak.

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing and know nothing.

“This, now this was bred by your grandmother herself,” Tywin said, retrieving a small pair of cutters from his trousers as he strode to a clump of roses growing wild along the path. He smiled at his Ty and Drew before proceeding to snip off a rose then another. Twin blue eyes bright as jewels looked at Tywin as he returned to them with two blooms. Their chubby hands reached for them, curious about the rose’s unusual color combination.

“She loved gardening and was in the Arbor Society,” he continued, watching the boys play with their flowers. He carefully got to his knees before them. “She came up with this variety, combining red and yellow rose varities to create one special rose that has both. She found a way to make the colors more vivid, and the blooms bigger, as you would see. It’s called the Roar of Lannister. It takes our colors and looks very much like a lion, don’t you see?”

It was the morning of Jaime and Cersei’s birthday celebration. The catering and events companies hired were beginning to set up picnic tables out by the gazebo, as well as a stage for the performance of Drogon, the twins’ favorite rock band. As a result, the guests had either kept themselves within the walls of the house or gone out, promising to come back just before the party.   
Tywin knew that Jaime and Brienne were off to the pool to get some much-needed exercise, according to them. Robert, his ankle feeling quite better, convinced his wife that they go out for a birthday breakfast and she was quite happy to agree. Margaery and Tyrion had gone to the game room, and invited Renly and Jon to join them. Judging from the loud cheers and protests, they were having a good time with the wii, with Jon at point they declaring they were fucking losers and Margaery telling them they were pathetic idiots. Sansa, once again free of her charges, offered to watch Lyra while Lollys and Bronn had a tennis game. Loras, with Joffrey in tow, joined Sansa. 

Tywin, who had seen little of his grandsons, offered to take them in for the morning. Their nanny offered to help him out but he was greedy for their company. Besides, Ty and Drew saw the girl all the time. They only saw their Pops every Friday night and then this long weekend. 

With the twins occupied with their flowers, Tywin continued to wheel them around the garden. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been here. He would pass it on his walks but he never stayed. Though decades has passed since Joanna’s death, it still pained him to be reminded of her everywhere. Today, with their grandsons, he felt brave enough to face her lingering presence. She was certainly in his heart, always will be, didn’t that mean he should see what traces of her remained?

Ty, giggling, suddenly started saying, “Ass!” lingering on the “s” sound. Drew joined him, shouting something that sounded like, “Fuck!” Tywin started, walking around their pram to look at the boys.

“Your mother and father will have to do something about your language,” he said, his hands on his waist. “Are they aware of this?”  
Drew, laughing, announced, “Fuck!”

“Much unbecoming of a Lannister,” Tywin said sternly but far from annoyed.

That just got them more excited as they began pelting the air with “Fuck!” and “Ass!” Tywin could only sigh loudly as he got behind them started pushing the pram again. “You are your father’s sons, all right, always doing the exact opposite he shouldn’t. Why, why can’t you say Pops? Eh? Pops? I’m Pops. Say Pops?” He leaned over them.

Ty, his eyes very round, smiled at Tywin. He already had tiny, square teeth. His face and dimples were Jaime’s as was Drew’s but Tywin thought his smile was a lot like his mother’s. Shy and warm. Drew’s smile, also dimpled, was more of a smirk that recalled his father’s. 

“Pops,” Tywin repeated, getting on his knees and ruffling Drew’s hair. He tipped Ty’s chin. “Can you say Pops?”

Drew pointed at him and announced, gleefully, “Ass!” 

 

Since it was too cool outside to swim, Jaime and Brienne went to the poolhouse instead to do some laps. That was the plan. Brienne, who was quick to get changed into a bright blue racer-back suit, was the first to get in the water. By the time Jaime emerged from the dressing room in a pair of red shorts piped with navy blue on the sides, Brienne’s legs and arms were scissoring through the turquoise expanse. He stood at the edge, watching.

Brienne’s head and shoulders popped out on the other end. Slightly out of breath and pink in the face from her exertion, she called to Jaime, “Get in! The water’s warm.”

“We should race,” Jaime suggested, sitting down. He pushed his legs through the water and sighed. The water felt good.

“It’s too small. I’ll beat before you make your first dive,” Brienne bragged, still on the other end.

“You’re all talk, wife. Get over here and I’ll show you a real victory,” he told her, patting the space beside him. 

“You can’t win against me, Jaime.”

“Prove it.”

With a smile, Brienne rolled back into the water. Jaime watched in admiration at her sure, strong strokes. That was her first advantage. The second was she looked sinful in the suit. 

She swam toward him until she surprised him by suddenly popping out between his legs. Jaime laughed as she shook her blond hair, sending a chlorine spray right into his face. “No fair!” he said, trying to avoid it. He only succeeded in falling on his back on the floor. Brienne put her hands on his thighs but she remained in the water. 

“Get up, Lannister,” she commanded.

Still chuckling, he sat up and saw that she had lowered herself. Only her head and shoulders were exposed but she was still between his legs. When he was close enough, she straightened, her lips almost brushing his. 

“What’s the prize when I win?” He asked, playing with the strap of her swimsuit. 

Brienne cocked an eyebrow. She kept her hands on his thighs. “So sure, are we?”

“Winner gets to kiss the loser wherever the winner wants. Loser will kiss the winner wherever the winner wants.”

“There’s hardly any difference.”

“Oh, there is. When I win, I get to choose where to kiss you and you will kiss me wherever I point.” 

“There’s already some pointing happening if that’s what I’m feeling against me,” Brienne told him, shaking her head. “Bad, Jaime. And I’m going to win. When I win, and believe that, husband, I will, I will touch you wherever you want and loser that you are, you will touch me where I tell you to.”

“Done. How many laps?”

“Ten.”

“Let’s make it fifteen.”

“Twenty.”

“Done.”

“And no arguing. You’re a sore loser, Jaime.”

“Because it is just impossible. I can swim like a fish.”

“You learned to swim in a pool. I swam in the waters of Tarth. Strongest waves. This pool is nothing.”

“Stop talking and race me.” 

It wasn’t clear who won. Only that at some point, there was a violent tussle in the water, rising over breathless gasps and deep moans. They must have emerged from the pool at the same time, it wasn’t clear. Their wet footsteps criss-crossed each other’s as they made their way back to the dressing room. One of them urgently speaking of the couch there and the other agreeing that yes, it looked very comfortable. 

An hour later, Jaime and Brienne exited the poolhouse. Their hair was damp and the smell of chlorine lingered on their freshly-showered bodies. Before they stepped on the path leading back to the house, Brienne turned to Jaime, put her arms around his waist and kissed him. He breathed her name against her lips as he kissed her back and then, reluctantly, put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her away from him.

“I’m trying to control myself, wife,” he told her, but there was no tension in his body this time.

“Earlier,” she started to ask, “was that you controlling yourself?”

Jaime blushed. He had been. . .very vocal.

“An attempt, if you will.”

Her eyes were bright. “I think you need more practice.”

And then Brienne was kissing him again, gently sucking at his lower lip while her hand cupped him through his shorts. Jaime gasped and jerked against her.  
“Ahem.”

Brienne, the first to realize they had an audience, quickly dropped her hand and turned, her eyes widening in horror. Jaime, however, was still in the throes of their kiss. He not only groaned loudly, he yanked her hand back to his crotch. “Why’d you do that?” he demanded, gripping her hand to the hardening fullness in his shorts. 

Shaking her head wildly, she snatched her hand back and this time, Jaime opened his eyes. Noticing that his wife’s skin switched from pale to flushed, he turned and almost died.

Tywin Lannister stood behind their sons’ prams. His face was impassive.

“Father,” Jaime said weakly. To his embarrassment, his cock remained hard and very evident in his shorts. He bit his lip as Brienne stepped in front of him, concealing his erection. Now he would never hide behind his wife but in this instance. . .

“Did you enjoy your swim?”

“We did,” Brienne answered. “Thank you for asking. Oh, and thank you for looking after the boys this morning.”

“Yes, about that. I would like to know. Do you often curse in front of your children?” 

Jaime blushed as Brienne shook her head. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“By any chance, if you show photos of me to them, do you, I don’t know, have some very, shall we say, very creative descriptions about me?”

Puzzled, Brienne glanced at Jaime and said, “I don’t understand.”

“Well, allow me to illustrate,” Tywin said walking around the pram. He bent to Ty and Drew, smiling at them with a warmth none of his own children had witnessed. Pointing at himself, he said, “Pops, Drew, Ty. Can you say, Pops?”

Drew pointed at him, grinned and squealed, “Ass!”

As Jaime and Brienne’s eyes widened, Ty shook his fist toward Tywin and added, “Fuck!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, Jaime doesn't realize right away why Brienne stops touching him.


	24. What About Last Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So something's going on with Renly and Loras!  
> Also, Sansa shares a secret.

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing and know nothing. 

 

After what turned out to be a passionate game of Dungeons and Dragons, Renly ushered himself out of the game room for some much-needed air. On his way out of the front door, he overheard Brienne’s voice coming from somewhere upstairs, lamenting, “Oh gods, Jaime, I want to die” and Jaime, sounding as grim, saying, “Me too. Gods, me too.”

He frowned. From Margaery’s description earlier and what she found this morning when she returned Ty to his parents, things were well with Jaime and Brienne. So what was happening now? He rolled his eyes as he continued toward the door, thinking that after this vacation, he would be off to another vacation, one where no one knew where he was and he would be out of reach from whatever problems will again arise. This was turning out to be the longest three days of his life.

As he strode on another path leading to who only knew where, his thoughts veered to events last night and early this morning. At thirty-four years old, he was too old for the mess he’d gotten into but he was partly to blame. No. Scratch that. He was mostly to blame.

He heard loud squeals and a deep, warm voice that reached right into his heart. Looking up, he saw that Sansa and Lyra were doing cartwheels in the lawn as Loras was showing Joffrey how to stand on his head. Trees and bushes hid Renly so he was able to watch the scene before him.

Sansa straightened up, arms high, back arched, one leg bent as if she were a gymnast. Joffrey, frustrated with how his long skinny legs kept on dropping to the ground, said, “That! Sansa, tell me how to do that!” 

Except for his green eyes, Joffrey looked every inch a Baratheon. It made Renly proud that his nephew seemed to take a lot after him. Robert and Stannis had tall, broad shapes that most people thought were fat but actually muscle. Renly was leaner, not as tall, not as muscular, but there was no denying that among the Baratheon brothers, he was certainly the most handsome. He had lots of pictures from childhood where he was a dead ringer for Joffrey, down to the full bangs on his forehead. His brothers had always been big-boned. Joffrey was going to be tall, Renly could already tell, but his frame would be more like his uncle’s. It was nice knowing that some part of him would go on when he was gone.

In spite of his wealth and good looks, Renly had been saddled with the responsibility of running and overseeing Baratheon Vineyards. It was never-ending work, one that did not leave much time for a personal time even though he was boss. You feared winter because the grapes would be ruined, you worried the ground would get too dry, you worried about an attack of insects and other pests that would fell the fields and cost millions of dragons lost. A survey of customers revealed that more than half were lonely housewives or divorcees, and his PR agency hit upon the brilliant idea of putting his face on advertising materials and anything associated with the label. Renly put his foot down on having his face on the bottle, that would be too much. But the advice worked. Their customers increased, and it was all because of the fantasy sold: when the women drank a Baratheon vintage, they were drinking with him and imagining what happened after. His personal inclination was an open secret but he was told, repeatedly, to never go on paper confirming it.

It was easy for a while. He could not remember the last time he had been in a relationship, let alone a date. Being in charge of three hundred employees did that to you. But on Thursday morning, when he volunteered his services to pick up Joffrey’s nanny, he not only realized how long he’d stamped down his needs but also that he’d never wanted somebody as much as Loras Tyrell.  
Loras was running, Lyra rode him piggy-back style while Joffrey chased them, pretending to be a bull. Sansa was laughing.  
He went to Loras’ room last night after dinner, only wanting to know how his stay was going and if there was anything he could to do help with Joffrey. Renly swore to the Seven that was all he wanted. He was going to knock on the door, inquire, and move on. He hadn’t counted on the smile on Loras’ face when he opened the door. Loras, who was so friendly. Loras who was so easy to talk to. Loras, who, upon realizing two hours had gone by since Renly had sat on his bed, that there was something odd to be talking so long with a man, to be talking about the things they did, to be talking so openly, so comfortably.

“It appears I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Renly said, rising.

“That’s just the problem,” Loras said. “I don’t want you to leave.”

He paused. 

“I don’t know why,” Loras continued. “Renly. . .there are things happening in my life right now that confuse me. I don’t understand any of them. But I know that I don’t want you to leave. But if you stay, I don’t know what will happen next. Or what I’ll do.”  
“Nothing has to happen. You don’t have to do anything.”

So he stayed and they talked. They fell asleep on the bed. Renly woke up with Loras staring at him. He trusts me, Renly thought and that meant it was time to leave. He couldn’t ignore the confusion on Loras’ face however, when he suddenly turned away and muttered something about having to return to his room and how he had things to do. 

Now it was a few hours later. Preparations for this afternoon’s party were taking place all over the manor. Renly, had thought to go to Jon with his problem but his friend was still having too much fun with Margaery and Tyrion. Robert and Cersei were gone. Bronn and Lollys were still playing tennis. Brienne wnet off with Jaime to the pool house and Renly didn’t want to interrupt their reunion. 

Renly thought he was being ridiculous. He was a grown man. He’d survived awkward situations before.

Clearing his throat, he broke away from the bushes and trees and walked toward the foursome playing. Joffrey was the first to notice him and shouted his name before running toward him. Sansa sat on the grass, and could only wave because Lyra was braiding her hair. Loras gave him a brief wave and just stood there as Renly allowed Joffrey to take him by the hand and steer him to his friends.

“Having fun?” Renly asked, to no one in particular.

“Mommy said there’s a party later,” Lyra said. “I’m making Sansa prettier.”

Sansa shook her head. “We’re not going to the party, Lyra. It’s for adults. But we can have our own party.”

“What are you talking about?” Renly asked. “It’s not an adults-only thing. Tywin expects the kids there.”

“Oh. Um, I didn’t know that.”

“Trust me. Are you going?” This time, he glanced at Loras but turned his attention back to Sansa.

“I’ll check with Brienne first,” she answered and yelped with Lyra tugged her hair a little too hard. “Careful, please.”

“I’ll have to check with Cersei too,” Loras said, looking at the ground before turning his attention determinedly to the girls. “Joffrey’s got a slight case of asthma. It might not be a good idea for him to be around smoke and crowds.”

“If Joffrey can’t go, I won’t go,” Lyra announced.

“But Loras, mommy said there’s going to be lots of hotdogs and burgers!” Joffrey protested. “And I have my inhaler. I’ll be fine!”

“Tywin serving hotdogs and burgers? Who would have thought?” Renly remarked, genuinely surprised. “I thought he only consumed blood and tears.”

Lyra giggled. “You can’t eat blood and tears!” 

“Yeah. He said the beef comes from our cattle farms so they’re going to be really tasty and the cheese too. Everything is Lannister, he said,” Joffrey said.

“Guys, you are seriously not thinking of skipping the party,” Renly told Sansa then Renly. 

“We’ll check with our employers first. We’re here to work, not to rest,” Loras said. “But thank you for inviting us.” 

He spoke firmly, with finality. Renly knew when he was being dismissed so he left. 

Sansa waited until Renly was far enough before she asked Loras, “Is there something going on?”

“Nothing. I just thought, if we’re going, Brienne or Cersei would have told us,” Loras said, shrugging. “Do you want to go?”

“Not really. But if I’m to look after the kids then I’ve no choice.”

“Yeah. I can’t be in another event where I’m going to be reminded that a rich boy such as myself should be doing something more manly than being a nanny.”

“Loras, can I be honest?” Sansa asked as Lyra fluffed her hair, loosening the braid.

“Am I going to be annoyed with you?”

“You have to admit it’s a little peculiar. But I can see you enjoy your job. I just want to know why this.”

“I like kids. I’m good with kids. Being the youngest I can do whatever I want. I pity my brother Willas sometimes. People think it’s so good to be the heir but you’re not that free.”

“That’s reason enough, I guess.”

“Of course it is. But, I confess, I did set out to be a child psychologist. Then I realized I really can’t stand to see kids messed up. So that’s why I’m doing this.” At that, Joffrey hugged him around the waist and smiled. Loras smiled back. “I don’t see myself doing this forever, though. I’m still young so I can still run after them, give piggy-back rides. Someday, I want my own children. I guess I’ll teach, then.” 

“I think you’ll be a great teacher.” Sansa told him sincerely.

“What about you? I think Margaery told me something about you wanting to go to grad school. Economics, right?”

“Yeah,” Sansa looked at her lap and her shoulder sank. Loras sat down beside her. Lyra thought to braid his curls next.

“Something you want to tell me?”

“This, thing, with Ty and Drew, Brienne and Jaime know that I’m saving up for grad school. I thought I’d be doing this for a while then I realized that in five months, they’re going to be two years old. And then. . .just before we left Westeros, I got a letter of acceptance.”

“Hey, that’s great!” Loras clapped her on the back.

“I know. And it’s in this school I’ve always wanted. The program’s great. And the scholarship is nothing to sneeze at—tuition, books, an allowance but I’ll have to find my own place but that’s okay. The problem is,” Sansa looked worried, “the problem is I applied for an early admission.”

“When do you start?”

“This spring.”

“This spring? The spring that follows this fall and winter?”

“I wasn’t expecting to get in!” Sansa said defensively. “I was planning on applying to other schools after our time here, thinking that I’ll be starting next year. I don’t know what to tell Jaime and Brienne.” 

“Are they going to be upset?”

“According to Brienne, they had at least a dozen applicants before hiring me. I hope they won’t have a difficult time when it’s, you know, time to re-hire.”

Loras laughed. “I was one of them.”

“What? I don’t believe you.”

“Trust me. I think Brienne liked me but Jaime, he told me I did great, but I don’t think he’s comfortable with a male nanny. Though I got the sense he didn’t like how Brienne and I connected.”

“Maybe I should recommend you.”

“So you’re really leaving?”

“I was thinking of doing this for only a year, Loras.”

“Oh. Thanks for the recommendation but I like working for Cersei and Robert.” Loras kissed Lyra on the cheek when she nuzzled her face against his neck. “You should talk to them as soon as possible, Sansa.”

“I know. But when? You have to admit it hasn’t been all roses these past few days. I’ll do it when we get back but Gods, I hope they don’t hate me.”

“They won’t hate you. They’ll be proud of you and wish you luck,” Loras put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “I promise.”


	25. Now You Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party on!

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing and know thing. 

Lunch that day was an informal affair. A buffet table was set up out on in the gardens where Lora and Sansa had played with the children earlier, away from the continuing arrangements for the party today. Across from it was a long picnic table with benches.  
Cersei and Robert were the first to arrive. Robert was walking straighter but still with a slight limp. He and Cersei were dressed similarly, he in a dark red cardigan and a white shirt, with dark jeans and loafers, she in a floral red blouse, denim Capri pants and tan, strappy sandals. She was easily supporting his weight as he walked, smiling at him. Joffrey was on Robert’s other side and he was telling his friends about how he mastered the cartwheel but failed in doing a headstand. 

Tywin arrived next, and soon after Jon and Renly. Tywin, despite having pushed to his elbows the sleeves of his immaculate white shirt, still looked formal in his gray slacks and black shoes. Jon had thrown a plaid shirt over a gray t-shirt with a blue direwolf in front, faded jeans and sneakers. Renly was wearing a collared black t-shirt, jeans and boots. Tywin looked at his clothes in approval but frowned at Jon’s choice.

Lollys and Bronn arrived hand in hand, with Lollys holding on her mother’s other hand. Bronn had foregone his usual all-black attire for a t-shirt, jeans and sandals, which drew another frown from Tywin. Lollys was in a yellow sweater and white shorts. She was shaking her head and laughing as Bronn regaled Lollys with tales about a famous sellsword named Daario Naharis. 

Jaime and Brienne arrived with their twins. Brienne carried Ty over hip, looking flushed and relaxed for the first time in days. She wore a white blouse over a pair of faded jeans, cuffed to reveal her slim, graceful ankes. She finished the look with a pair of black flats. Jaime too, was in a white shirt and jeans, but wore sneakers. His eyes flashed bright and green, and he wore his usual smirk. He had his arm around her waist while Drew held his hand. The twins were in matching white and red playsuits and sneakers.  
The last to arrive were Margaery and Tyrion. Tyrion walked with a rare strut, with his chin up and shoulders back, his hand tucked in Margaery’s arm, who had a big smile on her face. He was outfitted in a green sweater that emphasized his tousled blond locks, jeans and black trainers. Margaery wore a green cardigan over a gray tank with lace details on the neckline and denim shorts. Bronze flat sandals were strapped around her feet. 

Everyone loaded their plates with delicious food, which ran from cold lobster to salads. Cersei, who sat next to Brienne, leaned toward her ear and whispered something. Brienne smiled and threw her arms around her goodsister. Jaime let out a sigh of relief. That explained one positive test in the trash.

His mind returned to his morning. He felt Brienne leave the bed. He listened to her check on their sons, speaking to them softly before she went to the bathroom. Despite the closed door, he easily picked up the sounds of rushing water and soap rubbed on her face. He turned toward her pillow, inhaling her familiar vanilla scent. 

He must have fallen asleep because in the next moment, he felt her arms wrapping around his stomach from behind. He hummed contentedly as she kissed him on the nape and behind the ear, like he did when waking her up. He pressed his hands to hers, keeping them around him.

“It’s come, Jaime,” she whispered in his ear, making him shiver.

“Hmm?” He wished she would kiss him again.

She squeezed him. “Jaime. My Jaime. I’m not pregnant.”

She had not called him hers for a long time. He smiled but his eyes were still closed. “What makes you sure?” 

“It’s come. Do I need to tell you exactly what happens to a woman’s body every month?”

He chuckled as he realized what she meant. She giggled against his skin and then he was turning around to face her but his eyes remained closed. She kissed him sweetly on the lips and he sighed.

“It’s not weird being this happy to be not parents again?” She asked, her lips moving against his jaw. “Is it?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“You’re not disappointed?”

His eyes opened. She looked worried. He ran a finger down her cheek. “Never. Never with you, Brienne.” 

Then his eyes, still heavy with sleep, began to close. 

“Jaime?” 

“Hmm?”

“Happy birthday.” 

He put his arms and legs around her, burying his lips on her shoulder. “I love you, my wife.” 

 

Tyrion waited until everyone was seated. The next challenge was getting their attention. Margaery, who sat next to him, was in a deep conversation with Lollys and Cersei. Brienne had her head thrown back in laughter at something Jon was saying, while Jaime and Bronn appeared to be talking about an upcoming photo shoot. Renly and Robert were chuckling to themselves. Tywin, meanwhile, was surrounded by his grandchildren and Lyra. The elder Lannister looked relaxed as he held his twin grandsons on his lap while he teased Joffrey and Lyra.

Noticing he had distanced himself, Margaery pulled herself out of the conversation with the women and turned to him, her left hand linking with his right. He looked at her and found himself breathing easier. 

She bent her head, kissed him softly on the lips, flicking her tongue briefly at his top lip before straightening up. Tyrion cleared his throat. He knew what to do.

“If I may have your attention,” he said, deepening his voice so it carried over the chatter without having to shout. Everyone started shushing each other and looked at him.

“When we were asked, nay, summoned to Casterly Rock for a long weekend—“ Cersei laughed but quickly pretended to cough when Tywin gave her a look. Tyrion pressed on. “—there was a bit of grumbling. Admit it. I even had a pool going but nobody was interested in making bets on how the next four days would be. But for Miss Tyrell here. Miss Tyrell, who has always appreciated how my mind works,” he said, looking at Margaery, “Miss Tyrell who is probably the only person who appreciates my wicked sense of humor. She is quite exceptional, in my opinion. I don’t care if you don’t agree with me, but that is how I see her. Despite knowing this, it’s taken me this long, regrettably to ask her that one question that men in my position inquire of their lady loves a lot sooner, I assume. Because truly, a love like this, like ours, and like what some on this table have, should not be kept waiting. You go onward. You don’t waste time. But my long speech seems to have wasted yours so I’ll get right to the point, as I should have when I demanded your attention. It pleases me to let you know that I asked for Miss Tyrell’s hand in marriage and she, wonderful, beautiful person that she is, said yes.”

The second Tyrion finished talking, a shout went through the crowd on the table. Suddenly people were on their feet, rushing forward to congratulate Tyrion and Margaery. Margaery giggled as Renly kissed her soundly on one cheek and Robert on the other. Jaime hugged Tyrion, clapping him on the back. 

But the most surprising, and hands down, best reaction, came from Tywin Lannister. Holding his grandsons against either hip, he shot to his feet easily. A rare grin broke across his face as he ran to Tyrion and Margaery toward the end of the table. Jaime and Brienne quickly went to him, scooping up their sons in their arms and Tywin rushed on, barely noticing what had happened.

“We have a new Lannister!” He exclaimed and swept Tyrion up his arms, swinging him round and round. Then he unceremoniously dropped his son, who almost lost his balance. Tyrion’s glare melted when his father hugged Margaery and welcomed her to the family.

“We will, in less than a year,” Margaery told him, beaming. 

Tywin pumped his fist in the air and roared. 

 

****  
It took little time before Jaime and Cersei’s birthday party was in full swing. Though Tywin had acceded to their request to keep it small, there were still at least a hundred people in the yard, not including the catering staff that went around with trays of champagne and delicious hors’ d’oeuvres, and the band Drogon. Its frontman, the massive and imposing Khal Drogo, led his band in performing their popular rock numbers. The guests quickly started dancing and cheering for more. This included Tywin, who pulled Cersei in his arms for a dance. She was laughing the entire time as she followed her father’s lead. 

A buzz of speculation went through the crowd with what happened afterward. For Cersei, as Drogon launched into the next song, whispered something in Tywin’s ear that had him sweeping her up in his arms, twirling her around as if she were a little girl again. Robert joined them and Tywin hugged his goodson. Anyone looking on thought that this was the first time they saw Tywin Lannister show any human emotion. They saw more of this when he went to Ty and Drew and stormed the dance floor while keeping them in their pram. Their gurgles and laughter had everyone smiling as Tywin turned their pram—until Drew suddenly jammed his fist in the air and yelled, “Fuck!” and Ty, pointing randomly, followed it with, “Ass!” Jaime and Brienne couldn’t figure out where their sons picked this vocabulary. Renly and Cersei kept silent. 

Loras, whom Cersei invited as a guest to the party and as not her son’s nanny, found himself standing next to his sister. Margaery was at her element, proudly displaying the princess-cut diamond ring Tyrion slipped on her finger just before the party. Loras was happy for her but the smile dropped from his face when some idiot remarked that he’d never met a male nanny before. Did that mean he was called a “manny?” Even Margaery raised her eyebrow and ever graceful, turned her back on the inquiring guest. Brother and sister smiled at each other. 

Tyrion and Lollys were bumping and grinding their hips against each other as they sang along Drogon’s song. Sansa, whom Jaime and Brienne invited as their guest, found herself sharing a table with Jon. He was as annoying and as inappropriate as ever yet she couldn’t remember laughing this much.

Though the music was entirely wrong, Renly and Brienne were doing their own version of a wacky tango, stiff-armed and stiff-necked, looking intensely in each other’s eyes. They took turns dipping each other to the floor though at one point, Renly almost dropped Brienne. They laughed as they danced around the crowd, kicking their legs up in the air. Jaime, who watched from the sidelines, couldn’t keep the amused grin from his face. He remembered a night not too long ago when a certain blonde had led a crowd in a bar in a most unforgettable performance of The Bear And The Maiden Fair, rendered with the famous Stormlands jig and lots of thrusting her long legs in the air. 

Bronn too was dancing, but with his daughter. Lyra put her feet on his and he guided her through the crowd, both of them smiling. Bronn frowned when Joffrey tapped him on the shoulder then, completely ignoring him, told Lyra, “May I have this dance, milady?”  
Fuck the Seven, Bronn thought as Joffrey Baratheon spirited away his daughter to the dance floor. Was there a way to stop Lyra from becoming a teenager? Yet, he soon found himself smiling. 

Sometime later, with the party still going strong, Jaime took Brienne by the hand and led her away. She looked at him, silently marvelling at how even in the night, with just moonlight and stars, he was so handsome and striking. But she gave him an inquiring look when she realized he was leading her to their SUV parked in front of the mansion. 

"They'll be calling you soon for the birthday cake," she reminded him.

He glanced at her, grinning. "I have something important to do." 

“I’m not having sex with you in the car, Jaime,” she warned him and he turned to her, rolling his eyes.

“Of course not. We won’t fit.”

“But where are we going?” She asked as he opened the passenger side and ushered her in. He pulled the seatbelt toward but before buckling it, kissed her.

“Just trust me.” 

He would have pulled away but Brienne hummed and wrapped a hand behind his neck. Though their kiss was not frantic, it was passionate and deep. It took a lot of willpower for Jaime to extricate himself. “If we don’t stop—“

“Alright,” Brienne said against his lips and sat back. 

Jaime got behind the wheel and drove. He guided the car out of Casterly Rock and into the night. Brienne watched the elegant motions of his hands as he shifted the stick, his powerful thighs moving as he accelerated and braked when needed. How could something so ordinary enthral her so? And she found herself remembering a night not long ago, when she realized that everything Jaime Lannister did, be it driving, was extraordinary. Her cheeks warmed and a blush spread to her neck because that was the night she told him she was pregnant.

Soon, Jaime was pulling up by a cliff. He put a hand on Brienne’s knee, telling her silently to stay where she was. Then he was opening her door and taking her hand again. “Careful, the ground’s rocky,” he told her. Brienne was wearing heels with her dress, a strapless number in white. Since it was dark except for the lights on the sign that indicated they were at Lannis Peak, she decided to slip off her shoes and walk barefoot. The ground was smooth and cool, consisting of uneven, smooth rocks with deep grooves in between.

“What are we doing here?” She asked as Jaime led her by the edge. “If you’re going to murder me, you’ll be the first person they’ll suspect,” she joked.

He laughed. “Like I can live without you.”

She put her arms around herself. She could hear the ocean and the wind whipping at them. It was quite strong but not enough that they might lose their balance and fall. They were a good distance from the cliff’s edge, she could tell. 

Jaime, seeing she was cold, put his arms around her. He rubbed his hands up and down her shoulders. “I didn’t bring a jacket, sorry.”

“You’ll do.”

“Brienne, I brought you here to show you something. Things happened to us in the last few days that forced me to realize how badly I’ve treated you. I swear to you it won’t happen again. I will never hurt you, never intentionally. But you do have to tell me when I’ve crossed the line or I’m close—I won’t know, not all the time. I will not be angry nor hate you for telling me. I can never hate you, Brienne. I love you so much and it just grows every single day I’m with you.”

She touched his cheek. “Jaime. . .”

“You told me about my power over you. I told you of your power over me. I. . .I don’t like how it’s become a negative for us. I certainly don’t want you thinking that I’ll use it, take advantage.”

She shook her head. “You won’t. I believe you won’t.”  
“Still,” he said, resting his forehead against hers, “I think you should know what you do to me.”

She fully expected him to drag her hand down to his pants, as if getting caught red-handed by Tywin earlier wasn’t embarrassing enough. Instead, he turned his head toward the ocean below them.

It started with a streak of fire arcing through the night sky, followed by another and more. Brienne jumped as fireworks suddenly flared in the night sky, red fire, gold fire, blue fire, rendering the night as bright as daylight. On and on it went, coming from the ocean, lighting up the night such that she noticed Jaime watching her, his eyes green and golden at the fire reflected in them. Brienne smiled at him and turned back to the spectacle above them.

“Jaime, what’s this for? I don’t—I don’t understand?” She asked, his ears easily picking up her voice during a lull before more firecrackers slashed across the sky.

“I want you to know that when you look at me, when I think of you, when you touch me, even when you hit me on the head, when you call me an idiot, when you explain to me the genius invention that is the waffle maker, when I see your hair messy on the pillow as you sleep, when you smile at our sons, when you smile at a passage you read, I feel as if a thousand fireworks are being set off in me and I’m racing for the sky,” Jaime told her, smiling as more danced over them. When he lowered his gaze toward Brienne, she was looking at him with such brightness in her sapphire eyes that for a moment he forgot to breathe, stunned with how she looked at him right then, with love, with a love he never imagined would be given so freely to him. He held her tight.

“Oh, Jaime,” she said, her arms going around his shoulders. “ _My Jaime. _”__

__“That’s what you do to me,” he said, looking up at the sky then back to her._ _

__“I love you. My sun. My husband. _My life._ ”_ _

__“And I love you, Brienne. I have loved you long before I knew of you.”_ _

__What did you say to that? Not enough. Never enough._ _

__So she kissed him, pouring into it all that no words could fill._ _

__And the sky lit up like a thousand suns._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, I don't know if I should mention it but you can swim while wearing a tampon. Just in case someone points out that Brienne went swimming and she had her period. I don't think I need to go into detail about the process of putting one in.


	26. EPILOGUE

Sometime after the events at Casterly Rock.

Sansa made it just in time for work one Monday. With fifteen minutes to spare, she slipped off the motorcycle and handed her helmet to the rider. His gray eyes twinkled at her and he made a move to grab her but she shrieked and told him she refused to be late because he couldn’t keep his wolf paws to himself. “Later,” she told him and he nodded. They had been on the bike all night as an incoming storm had cancelled all flights from Winterfell. She was tired yet energized and looked forward to finding him at home sprawled in her bed, nude or wearing one of her frilly tank tops and pajamas. Either image had her blushing and biting her lip She wished she wasn’t this grinning idiot. Jaime and Brienne might think her crazy.

Cersei, thinking the visit to the doctor was another one of those routine things pregnant women did, left the clinic dazed and distracted. She roused herself just enough to get on a cab and direct the driver to take her to Arryn, Baratheon & Partners. Maybe Robert would handle the news of twins better than she. Well, he had to. She was forty-five years old and carrying twins. He still had control of his bladder so it was only fair he dealt with the reality of their twins and guided her. _Shit, twins?_

Olenna Tyrell wasn’t too happy about Tyrion getting her granddaughter pregnant before marrying her. Though the couple didn’t mind that they were following a non-traditional timeline, they did as Olenna insisted and managed to get married in a lavish ceremony at Highgarden. At least, when their daughter was born, she would still be properly “premature.” Margaery wants to name her Olenna Alerie.

Loras surprised Renly with a visit to Baratheon Vineyards. 

Addam Marbrand, who was unable to attend the party at Casterly Rock because of his wife’s delicate pregnancy, left in the middle of a photo shoot in the Dornish desert because she went into labor earlier than expected. He hopped on a Dornish steed and stormed the sands toward the airport, arriving with a nasty sunburn. Bronn wasn’t too happy that he had to take over immediately, especially since arrangements were made for Lyra to stay with relatives while he and Lollys worked on a second baby this weekend.

Jaime and Brienne are frustrated with couples counselling. It wasn’t very difficult for them to be honest with each other yet both felt they weren’t doing enough. They needed something. . .else. Something that would put them out of their comfort zone yet make them stronger. Stannis recommended a couples retreat organized by a woman who simply called herself Melisandre. She specialized in extreme couples counselling. Despite being unsure, Jaime and Brienne signed up. 

They were only supposed to kiss after signing the contract but it ended up on the floor and, much to Brienne’s embarrassment when she submitted it, sticky on the corners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end for now. More to come!
> 
> Thank you for the support!
> 
> All characters by George RR Martin. I own nothing and know nothing!
> 
> Seven installments in the series, woot, woot! While we will return in a few weeks, I'm drawn to another Jaime/Brienne story that has nothing to do with The Lannisters Are Coming. I have an idea, plot, their characterizations, all I need to do is write it. Watch out for it some time this t week. After that, PART EIGHT! YAY!

**Author's Note:**

> Latest Installment in The Lannisters Are Coming!  
> I don't think this will be as long as Then Came You.
> 
> I dare you to not blush.


End file.
